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SOME BORZOI JUVENILES 

C. Lovat Fraser 

NURSERY RHYMES 

W. S. Gilbert 

THE STORY OF THE MIKADO 

W. H. Hudson 

A LITTLE BOY LOST 

George Philip Krapp 

THE KITCHEN PORCH 

Walter de la Mare 

THE THREE MULLA-MULGARS 

Elizabeth Simpson 

PRINCE MELODY IN MUSIC-LAND 

Adam Gowans Whyte 

THE WONDER-WORLD WE LIVE IN 

Mildred Kennedy 

THE rOREST BEYOND THE WOODLANDS 

Hilaire Belloc 

CAUTIONARY TALES FOR CHILDREN 
MORE BEASTS FOR WORSE CHILDREN 
THE BAD CHILD’S BOOK OF BEASTS 
THE MODERN TRAVELLER 






So there they were, all 
porch. 


on the kitchen 
(see p. S3-) 




























THE KITCHEN 


GEORGE PHILIP KRAPP 

'\ 


With illustrations by 


THELMA CUDLIPP 
GROSVENOR 


> > 


New York ALFRED A-KNOPF Mcmxxiii 









COPYRIGHT, 1923, BY ALFRED A. KNOPF, INO. 
Published, August, 1928 




Plates engraved by the Aetna Photoengraving Co., New York. 
Set up and printed by the Vail-Ballou Co., Binghamton, N. Y. 
Paper furnished by W. F. Etherington & Co., New York. 
Bound by the Plimpton Press, Norwood, Mass. 


MANUFACTURED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA 


SEP 18 73 



nuvO | 


To Betty the First, 
to Bobby the Next, 
and to Pippy the 
Last and the Least. 














CONTENTS 


LITTLE RED HEN 11 

SWOOPER 20 

CHICKS AND CHILDREN 28 

PUSSY IN THE BASKET 36 

WHAT ARABELLA DID 48 

SLY FOX ■ 57 

HUNGRY WOLF 70 

RICE PUDDING 81 

T. TURTLE SLOWBOY 9? 

HARD STONE 104 

GAY ROOSTER 117 

A GARDEN PARTY 128 

WHISKERS 146 

BUSY DAYS 157 






ILLUSTRATIONS 


So there they were, all on the kitchen porch. Frontispiece 

It was fastened too securely for them to move it. 46 

“Oh, Farmer Clovertop, I have had such a dread¬ 
ful experience.” 66 

Then she laid on right and left with her broom. 88 

Little Red Hen was awakened by a dreadful 
groaning and moaning. 


118 















LITTLE RED HEN 


L ITTLE RED HEN was always a very cheer¬ 
ful person. There had been indeed only one 
sad time in all her life. Fortunately for her, how¬ 
ever, Little Red Hen was then so young that she 
did not realize what had happened. What she 
thought she remembered she had really learned 
from Good Cook. The story of this sad occasion 
had been told so many times in Little Red Hen’s 
hearing that she knew all there was to be known 
about it. 

According to Good Cook’s report, when Little 
Red Hen was a tiny chick, she was one of four¬ 
teen sisters and brothers. Of course she was not 
red then, but all the members of this large family 
of little chicks were covered with a soft yellow 
down. 

Neither could anyone have told that she would 

grow up to be a hen. For the chicks all looked 

so much alike that it was impossible to tell which 

of the members of the family were sisters and 

which were brothers. Even Old Hen, the mother 

of all these chicks, could not tell. But there they 

were, fourteen of them, all crowded into one nest 

and all snuggling up under the wings of their 

one big mother to keep warm. 

n 


12 


THE KITCHEN PORCH 


What a pecking of egg-shells there was when 
the whole brood of young chicks was hatched out! 
They did not all peck their way through at the 
same instant, but all day long, now one and now 
another, made its way from the darkness inside 
its shell to the brightness and light of the outer 
world. 

“I’m here!” each one peeped as soon as his head 
was free. 

“Cluck, cluck!” said Old Hen. “Glad to see 
you out.” 

And by the end of the day fourteen of them 
were peeping all together, “We’re here,” with their 
heads and their bodies and their tails completely 
out. 

“We’re here, and we want something to eat.” 

Now this brood of fourteen chicks was the special 
property of Good Cook. And Good Cook knew 
that little chicks are like little people. They get 
hungry quick and often. As soon as the chicks 
were out of their shells, therefore, Good Cook pre¬ 
pared some food for them. Do you know what 
the first thing was that they had to eat? It was a 
hard-boiled egg. Not a hard-boiled egg for each 
one, but one egg for all of them, chopped up very 
fine. The little chicks did not need to be coaxed 
to eat the chopped egg. They seemed to know 
without being told that it was good to eat. They 
pecked up the tiny crumbs and swallowed them 



LITTLE RED HEN 


13 


down as though they meant to begin growing right 
away and very fast. 

And indeed they did grow very fast. In a few 
days, they were able to eat corn meal mixed with 
milk, and they even began to peck around in the 
grass and earth, hunting for small seeds or other 
fragments of food. By the end of a week, little 
tiny feathers began to show at the tips of their 
wings. 

“How those chicks do grow!” exclaimed Good 
Cook. “Soon they won’t be chicks, but chick¬ 
ens.” 

Then it was, when the chicks were only a little 
over a week old, that a dreadful thing happened. 
Of all that family of fourteen, only one was to 
grow up to be a chicken. For one morning when 
Good Cook went out to feed her little chicks, she 
found Old Hen in despair. All her little chicks 
had been killed except one. During the night 
Gray Rat had dug a hole under the side of the 
chicken house. He had crept in and had destroyed 
thirteen of Old Hen’s family of fourteen downy 
yellow babes. 

“Oh, you poor solitary little chick!” exclaimed 
Good Cook, when she found that there was only one 
chick left. “What will happen to you now? If I 
leave you here, Gray Rat will certainly come back 
another night and that will be the last of you and 
the last of all my big family of little chicks. I 




14 


THE KITCHEN PORCH 


see I must take you into the kitchen and bring you 
up myself. I must be your mother now, and Old 



Hen must lay some more eggs and try again. And 
I’m going to set a trap for Gray Rat right away. 
If I don’t catch him, I’ll know the reason why.” 

That is how it came about that Little Red Hen 
was brought up by herself, and not in the poultry 
yard, but in the kitchen. At first Good Cook kept 
her in a basket beside the kitchen stove, where it 
was nice and warm. Soon, however, the little chick 
learned how to jump out over the side of the 
basket. Then she ran all about the kitchen, pick¬ 
ing up crumbs, and trying again and again, but 
never successfully, to catch flies with her little beak. 
The children often came into the kitchen to play 
with the little chick, and so she grew up very tame 
and not afraid of anyone. 



LITTLE RED HEN 


15 


She grew very rapidly, and by and by the yellow 
down on her body disappeared, and in its place 
feathers of a brownish-red color began to appear. 
Up to this time she had been called only Little 
Chick, but now she was a little chick no longer. 
They changed her name to Little Red Hen, and 
that was the name by which she was always known. 

Now that Little Red Hen was grown up, Good 
Cook did not want to have her all the time in the 
kitchen. To tell the truth, she was rather a 
troublesome Little Red Hen. She never seemed 
to learn how to keep out of the way. When Good 
Cook was flying about in a great hurry, trying to 
do, as she said, forty different things at once, Little 
Red Hen would get excited and run about too. 
Perhaps she thought she was helping. But she 
was not. She was only making Good Cook dodge 
about and stumble to keep from stepping on her. 
So one day when Good Cook tripped over Little 
Red Hen and almost spilled a bowl of hot soup on 
her, Good Cook made up her mind that there would 
have to be a change. 

“You’re old enough to live outdoors now, my 
darling,” she said to Little Red Hen, “and out¬ 
doors you go. Here’s your basket, on the kitchen 
porch, and you can sleep there as well as anywhere.” 

After that, Little Red Hen slept at night in her 
basket on the kitchen porch, and in the daytime she 
played with the children, or wandered about in the 



16 


THE KITCHEN PORCH 


yard and garden, or did anything else that struck 
her fancy. When the kitchen door was open, she 
went into the kitchen and stayed there until Good 
Cook put her out. Good Cook was very fond of 
Little Red Hen, and was glad to have her company 
when she was not too busy. 

Little Red Hen was a sort of privileged char¬ 
acter. She went wherever she wanted to go. 
When Good Cook was too busy to have her in the 
kitchen, she went to the poultry yard and amused 
herself with the other chickens there. Sometimes 
she spent the night in the chicken house, perching 
on a roost as the other chickens did. This is the 
way chickens nearly always sleep. But Little Red 
Hen was brought up so differently from the hens 
that she did not mind sleeping in her basket. She 
could sleep equally well in her basket or on a roost, 
and she did whichever was the more convenient 
thing to do when it came time to go to sleep. 

Having so many more privileges than the other 
hens and so many more favors shown to her, you 
might suppose that Little Red Hen would grow 
up to be a very spoiled sort of chicken. On the 
contrary, she was not spoiled at all. She always 
looked on the bright side of things and always tried 
to lend a hand. She was ready to play when the 
children, or Good Cook, or Towzer the dog, or any¬ 
body else wanted to play with her. But when 



LITTLE RED HEN 


17 


there was no one to play with, she could very easily 
amuse herself. She talked a great deal, and when 
there was no one near to talk to, she talked to her¬ 
self. Not everybody understood all that she said. 
Rut Little Red Hen was not exacting. She did 
not expect to get an answer every time she spoke. 
If other people did not want to talk as much as she 
did, Little Red Hen was quite content that they 
should remain silent. 

“What a world it would be,” exclaimed Little 
Red Hen, “if everybody else should talk all 
the time, just like me! It wouldn’t do. There 
must be some people to talk and some people to 
listen.” 

Little Red Hen was not remarkable for her brav¬ 
ery, but she was a persistent creature. If there 
was anything to find out, she wanted to find it out. 
If she had not been so kind-hearted, she might have 
been an inquisitive busybody and gossip. But she 
was not that. She just wanted to know because 
she was interested. She was interested in every¬ 
thing that anybody did. She liked to watch what 
was going on. And that was why she liked the 
kitchen porch so well. She thought it was the busi¬ 
est and most interesting place in the world. She 
could hear anything that happened in the house, 
and she could see the milk man when he came, and 
the ice man, and the meat man, and the grocer’s 



18 


THE KITCHEN PORCH 


boy, and the baker’s boy, and every other girl or 
boy or man or woman who brought anything to the 
house. 

The kitchen porch was the great meeting place, 
the center of all the world. At least it was the 
center of Little Red Hen’s world. Sometimes she 
wandered away to far off regions. She knew the 
yard and garden by heart, and now and then she 
ventured into the fields, which seemed to lie spread 
out until the sky touched the ground, all around 
the house. 

Occasionally she even got as far as the woods or 
the little pond where the children hunted for polly- 
wogs. But these were dangerous, or at least ad¬ 
venturous regions. One never knew when one 
might not meet with strange creatures on these 
rambles, creatures who never came to the kitchen 
porch. There was Sly Fox, about whom Little 
Red Hen had heard many a tale, Shaggy Bear and 
Hungry Wolf, and Black Buffalo, Roaring Lion 
and Fierce Tiger, and hosts of other inhabitants of 
the wild country who might not do you any harm 
but who must nevertheless be treated with caution 
and respect. They were all interesting to Little 
Red Hen. She liked to hear about them and she 
liked to meet them now and then on her long ram¬ 
bles. But she did not like to meet them too often. 
For the most part, she preferred to stay close at 
home. She was what you might call a great home 



LITTLE RED HEN 


19 


body. There was enough on the kitchen porch to 
keep her interested and occupied, and after she had 
roamed around for a time in the great world, she 
was always ready to return to this comfortable rest¬ 
ing place. 

“My experience is,” said Little Red Hen, sum¬ 
ming it all up, “my experience is, that though it is 
mighty fine to go roaming around in the world, see¬ 
ing strange sights and meeting with exciting adven¬ 
tures, when all is said and done, there is nothing 
like the peace and quiet of home.” 



SWOOPER 


S Little Red Hen became older, she grew 



LjL more venturesome. While she was a little 
chick she never wandered far from the kitchen door. 
But she was born with an inquisitive nature, and 
soon she began to want to know what there was in 
the rest of the world. In order to find out she got 
the habit of following Fat Duck and Big Goose 
and Lord and Lady Turkey wing, and the other 
dwellers in the poultry yard, on their various ex¬ 
cursions. In this way she came to know all about 
the yard and the garden, about the orchard, about 
the fields where Farmer Clovertop had his hay and 
his corn and wheat, and even about the big woods 
that lay beyond the fields. 

One day Little Red Hen went out with a number 
of other ducks and chickens into a large field. It 
was a pasture field where the cows and their calves, 
and also the horses, when they were not at work, 
were kept. At this time Little Red Hen was about 
half grown. She was no longer a little chick, but 
neither was she as yet a full grown hen. She was 
what is called a young pullet. She was just old 
enough to get into trouble, but not yet wise enough 
to help herself out of trouble after she was in. 


20 


SWOOPER 


21 


There seemed to be no likelihood of trouble, how¬ 
ever, on this peaceful day in the pasture lot. The 
ducks and the turkeys and the chickens were all hav¬ 
ing a nice quiet time there together. The cows 
were calmly grazing, or standing still just as 
calmly, chewing their cuds. The little calves ca¬ 
vorted around in innocent joy, and altogether it 
would be hard to imagine a more peaceful picture 
than this was. 

The field was not altogether as peaceful, how¬ 
ever, as it seemed to be. Though Little Red Hen 
and the others did not know it, two pairs of sharp 
eyes were keeping a close watch on them all the 
time. One pair of these eyes belonged to Farmer 
Clovertop. He was hidden among some thick 
hazel bushes at the side of the field. It was impos¬ 
sible to see him from the field, but Farmer Clover- 
top himself could easily see all over the field and 
over the woods beyond the field. Farmer Clover- 
top sat very quietly among the bushes. He seemed 
to be watching and waiting. He did nothing, but 
in his hands he held his gun, and plainly he was all 
ready to do something when the proper time ar¬ 
rived. 

Farmer Clovertop sat watching and waiting, but 
it was not merely Little Red Hen and her friends 
in the field that he was watching. Most of the time 
he kept his eyes turned towards the woods, and 
especially towards a tall dead hickory tree in the 



22 


THE KITCHEN PORCH 


woods. The gaunt leafless limbs of the dead hick¬ 
ory stood out above all the other trees around it. 
On one of the highest limbs was something black. 
It was small, and if one did not know better, one 
might have taken it for a knot on the limb. It was 
as motionless as a knot, and it had been there ever 
since Little Red Hen and her friends had come out 
into the field. 

None of the ducks or chickens or turkeys had no¬ 
ticed the black knot. But Farmer Clovertop had 
noticed it, and he knew it was anything but a knot. 
He knew that the knot was really Swooper the 
Hawk. The second pair of eyes that were watch¬ 
ing the ducks and chickens were the eyes of 
Swooper the Hawk. Farmer Clovertop was 
watching Swooper, and Swooper had his piercing 
eyes on the ducks and chickens, who were not 
watching anybody, but were enjoying themselves 
without suspicion that an enemy was waiting to 
pounce upon them. 

For a long time the knot sat motionless on the 
hickory limb. Farmer Clovertop was becoming 
cramped and tired from crouching down among 
the hazel bushes. Just as his patience was about 
to give out, however, the knot moved. Slowly it 
spread its wings, and flapping them lazily, it 
soared up into the sky. Swooper was getting 
ready for action. Farmer Clovertop also got ready 
for action. First Swooper circled round and 



SWOOFER 


23 


round, flying higher and higher in the air. Now 
he was almost a speck in the sky. He had gone up 
into his high airy watch tower to take a look around 
in order to make sure that no danger was near, that 
is, no danger to him. But though he could look 
far and wide, his keen eye could not pierce the 
thick covering of the leaves on the hazel bushes be¬ 
neath which Farmer Clovertop lay hiding. 

Gay Rooster and Lord Turkey wing now noticed 
Swooper for the first time. They saw him soar¬ 
ing high up in the sky, and they did not like the 
look of things. They had experienced Swooper’s 
ways of working before. One cawed and the 
other gobbled warningly, and they stood still, with 
their heads cocked up, watching their enemy as he 
circled slowly above them. 

Little Red Hen had never seen Swooper before, 
and though she did not know exactly what Swooper 
was going to do, she understood enough from what 
Gay Rooster said to know that Swooper would try 
to do something unpleasant. If you ask me why 
Gay Rooster and Lord Turkey wing, as soon as they 
saw Swooper, did not run out at once to a safe place 
in the poultry yard, taking all the others with them, 
I must answer that I do not know. If they had 
been wise, that is what they would have done. The 
truth probably is, however, that Gay Rooster and 
Lord Turkeywing were not very wise. They knew 
they were all in danger, but they did nothing to pro- 



24 


THE KITCHEN PORCH 


tect themselves or anybody else from the danger. 
There was some excuse for Little Red Hen, be¬ 
cause she had never seen Swooper before. But 
Gay Rooster and Lord Turkey wing knew very well 
what Swooper was up to. 

In the meantime Swooper kept circling around 
in his airy watch tower. At last he seemed to have 
satisfied himself that no danger was in sight. He 
stopped in his flight, and for a moment he appeared 
to stand still in the air. Then he began to de¬ 
scend—slowly at first. Swifter and swifter he 
dropped as he came lower down out of the sky. 
Now he was as low as the tops of the trees. Then 
with a mighty swoop he dipped down as swift as a 
flash of lightning, fastened his sharp claws in Little 
Red Hen’s sides as he swept over, and at once be¬ 
gan his upward flight. Little Red Hen was the 
victim he had picked out from the watch tower, and 
now, as he thought, he had her safe in his claws. 
He intended to carry her off to his dead hickory 
tree, where he would pick the flesh from her bones 
and make a merry meal. 

But Swooper did not know that he had an enemy 
lurking among the hazel bushes. When Swooper 
seized Little Red Hen, Farmer Clovertop had his 
gun ready to fire. But he did not fire at once. 
He knew that when Swooper began his upward 
flight with Little Red Hen heavy in his claws, he 
would have to go slow for a moment, until he got 




SWOOPER 


25 


a good start. That would be the time for him to 
fire. And just at the right time, fire he did. 
Bang! went the gun. And scarcely was the sound 



of the gun heard when Swooper stopped in his 
flight, flapped his wings swiftly once or twice, and 
then fell dead to the ground. As he fell he let go 
of Little Red Hen. 

Fortunately Little Red Plen had not been hurt. 
She had been scratched by Swooper’s sharp claws, 
and she had been terribly frightened, but other¬ 
wise she had not been harmed. When Swooper 
let go of her, she flew to the ground, and once there, 
she scuttled as fast as her wings and legs could 
take her back to the house and to the kitchen porch. 



26 


THE KITCHEN PORCH 


Oh, what a relief to be back at the kitchen porch 
again, where no Swoopers came down like a thunder 
bolt from the sky to carry innocent people off and 
devour them! 

As soon as he saw Swooper fall, Farmer Clover- 
top came out from his hiding place among the hazel 
bushes. He walked over and picked up Swooper, 
who was already dead as a door nail. 

“Aha, my fine fellow!” exclaimed Farmer 
Clovertop. “I’ve got you at last, have I? Many a 
fat young chicken or fat young duck you have car¬ 
ried off to your dead hickory tree and eaten, but 
how you will carry off no more. There won’t be 
any more bones and feathers to add to the pile be¬ 
neath your tree. And do you know what I am 
going to do with you, old Swooper? I am going 
to nail you to the barn door as a warning to other 
hawks that what happened to you will happen to 
them, if they show themselves where I can get a 
shot at them.” 

Farmer Clovertop did as he said he would, and 
nailed Swooper, with his wings spread out as wide 
as they would go, to the barn door. 

“There you are,” he said, when Swooper was 
nailed up, “as clear a sign to Keep Off as anyone 
could ask for.” 

And apparently the other hawks did not ask for 
any better sign. They profited by Swooper’s sad 
end, and as long as Swooper hung there, nailed to 



SWOOPER 


27 


the barn door, not another hawk was seen about 
the place. 

At first Little Red Hen and the other ducks 
and chickens were very much afraid of Swooper, 
even after he was dead and nailed to the barn door. 
For a long time they would not go near him. At 
length, however, they grew used to seeing him and 
appeared to realize that he could no longer harm 
them. Rut Little Red Hen never beheld the cruel 
claws of Swooper, as they hung from his lifeless 
body, without thinking of the time when she her¬ 
self was clutched in those claws and was being borne 
up into the air by Swooper’s powerful wings. 

“There is one thing, however,” she would then 
say to herself, “that I have learned from my nar¬ 
row escape. And that is, the next time I see dan¬ 
ger hovering over me, as Swooper did before he 
struck, I shan’t wait for the danger to overtake 
me. The best way to be safe is to keep out of 
dangerous places, and the next best is to get out of 
a dangerous place as fast as you can if you happen 
to be caught in one.” 



CHICKS AND CHILDREN 


44yT feels to me,” said Little Red Hen, “as 

X though it was going to be a very warm 
day.” 

Little Red Hen did not make this remark to 
anyone in particular. She just made it because it 
occurred to her. In fact there was no one near 
enough to hear them when she spoke the words. 
But Little Red Hen was like that. Whenever she 
thought of anything, she just said it. 

Little Red Hen was wandering aimlessly around 
the yard. Though it was still early in the morn¬ 
ing, she had already had her breakfast. Shelled 
corn and cracked wheat—that was what she had had 
for her breakfast. That was what she always had 
for every breakfast. She had the same, too, for 
every supper. The rest of her meals were not 
brought to her. She had to hunt them for herself. 
Whenever she found anything to eat she had a 
meal. Sometimes she caught a bug or a worm, but 
for the most part she scratched around to find seeds 
or crumbs or other little scraps of food. 

“It’s entirely too warm out here in the sun,” said 
Little Red Hen. “I think I will go up on the 
porch. It’s nice and shady there.” 

2S 



CHICKS AND CHILDREN 


29 


Little Red Hen walked over to the porch and 
flew up on it. She did not have far to fly, for the 
porch was a very low porch. It was the back 
kitchen porch. Little Red Hen came there often 
because it was a good place to hunt for crumbs 
and other bits of food. 

When Little Red Hen flew up on the porch, 
she found she was not the only person there. For 
on the porch was Towzer, and he was eating his 
breakfast. He was eating it from a dish, and I 



must say he was not eating very neatly. He 
pulled the bones out of his dish and scattered them 
around the porch, and in general he ate in a very 
messy way. 

“Good morning, Towzer,” said Little Red Hen 
cheerfully. “Quite a warm day, don’t you think?” 

Towzer said nothing. He was too busy eat¬ 
ing. He was not very polite, but Little Red Hen 
did not mind this. She and Towzer were very 
good friends. You could tell they were good 
friends, because Towzer let Little Red Hen gather 



30 


THE KITCHEN PORCH 


some of the scraps of food which he scattered on 
the floor. He even let her pick out a few little 
pieces of meat from his own dish. If Towzer and 
Little Red Hen had not been good friends, he 
would have growled when she ate from his dish. 
If he said nothing, that was the same as saying 
that she was welcome. Little Red Hen under¬ 
stood Towzer very well. She knew that she and 
Towzer were good friends, but that she w r ould have 
to do the talking for both of them. 

“I’m sure this is going to be a very hot day to¬ 
day,” remarked Little Red Hen, as she pecked up 
the last little crumb of food. “Entirely too hot 
to do much running around.” 

Towzer seemed to agree to this. At any rate he 
did not deny it. He now lay down with his head 
up and his front legs stretched out straight before 
him. 

“Do you know,” continued Little Red Hen, “it 
was so stuffy and close last night that I scarcely 
slept a wink. That’s why I got up so early this 
morning. But I feel quite rested now. The early 
morning air is so refreshing, don’t you think?” 

To^vzer did not say what he thought. Speaking 
of sleeping, though, seemed to make him sleepy. 
He changed his position now and lay down flat on 
his side. His head, too, lay flat on the floor, and his 
four legs were stretched comfortably out their full 



CHICKS AND CHILDREN 


31 


length. He looked very comfortable, and he felt 
just as comfortable as he looked. 

“I wonder why the children are so late this morn¬ 
ing,” said Little Red Hen. “I haven’t heard a 
sound from them, and I don’t believe they are 
ready yet for breakfast.” 

If Towzer had heard a sound from the children 
he did not make any sound to show that he had. 
He snapped at a fly that came buzzing too near his 
nose. He missed the fly, but that did not greatly 
worry him. It was not the first fly he had snapped 
at and missed. Unaccountable creatures, these 
flies! Why should they be continually winging 
about through the air? Much more sensible to 
settle down comfortably and not wear yourself 
out on a hot morning like this. 

“There they are now!” exclaimed Little Red 
Hen. 

By “they,” Little Red Hen meant the children. 
Sounds now came down from upstairs. The chil¬ 
dren at last were awake and were getting up. I 
regret to say, however, that the sounds were not 
very cheerful. Everybody seemed to be as cross 
as two sticks. Perhaps the weather had something* 
to do with it. 

“Oh, dear, dear!” sighed Little Red Hen. “I’m 
afraid the children aren’t in a very good humor 
this morning.” 



32 


THE KITCHEN PORCH 


Towzer closed one eye, which showed that he 
was half asleep. Of course the children were 
cross. Everybody was cross now and then, but 
they got over it in time. Towzer forgot to remem¬ 
ber, however, that Little Red Hen was never cross. 

“Quit pulling my hair!” shouted One Little 
Child. 

“I’m not pulling your hair,” cried Another Little 
Child, “you’re pushing me!” 

“Get off my bed, or I will hit you,” exclaimed 
Third Little Child. 

The three little children said a great many other 
rude things which I cannot take the trouble to re¬ 
peat. Tears were shed and there was so much 
commotion that Mother finally had to appear. 

“Children dear,” said Mother, “please compose 
yourselves. It is not at all necessary to dress to the 
accompaniment of such rough music. Let us be 
peaceful for a while.” 

“I’m glad Mother has come,” remarked Little 
Red Hen to Towzer. “I dislike very much to 
hear the children quarreling.” 

“Anyway I’m not going to wear any shoes to¬ 
day,” declared One Little Child. “It’s too hot, 
and I’m going barefoot.” 

“No, my boy,” answered Mother. “I want you 
to put your shoes and stockings on.” 

“Why, Mother?” whined One Little Child. 



CHICKS AND CHILDREN 


33 


“Can’t I go barefoot today? I don’t want to put 
my shoes and stockings on.” 

“No, my child,” repeated Mother. “Please do 
as I tell you. You must put your shoes and stock¬ 
ings on and there is no use crying about it.” 

“Ouch! Ouch!” cried Another Little Child. 
“Stop, Mother! You’re pulling my hair.’ 1 ’ 

“Well, dear,” said Mother, “I’m combing your 
hair as gently as I can. If you had let me comb it 
last night when you went to bed, there wouldn’t be 
so many snarls in it this morning.” 

“Oh, I just hate this old hair!” exclaimed An¬ 
other Little Child. “I wish you would cut it all 
off as short as Towzer’s hair. He doesn’t have to 
have his hair pulled and combed so that it hurts.” 

“Well, if you want to be a little dog,” said 
Mother, patiently, “you can be treated and live 
like a little dog, but if you want to be a little girl, 
you must do as little girls do.” 

“I doni't know whether I want to be a little girl 
or not,” replied Another Little Child. “Every¬ 
body is always scolding me,” 

“Well, when you are little, you have to be 
scolded,” said One Little Child, who was the oldest 
of all. “The big ones always scold the little ones.” 

“Rut what are you doing, my child?” said Mother 
to Third Little Child. “Why are you putting 
your clothes on? You haven’t had your bath yet.” 



34 


THE KITCHEN PORCH 


“Oh, Mother, do I have to have a bath?” asked 
Third Little Child miserably. 

“Yes, dear, you must have your bath,”’ answered 
Mother. “You know you always have a bath.” 

“Oh dear, Oh, dear!” moaned Third Little Child. 
“Nothing but baths and getting dressed and get¬ 
ting dressed and baths! I don’t see any fun in 
that. Why can’t we do what we want to do some¬ 
times?” 

“Well, my child, if you will want to do some¬ 
times what you have to do,” said Mother, “then 
you can do what you want to do. But hurry up, 
all of you, and get through with your baths and 
dressing. It’s just possible there may be waffles 
for breakfast.” 

“Oh, waffles!” exclaimed Third Little Child joy¬ 
fully. 

“Oh, waffles!” exclaimed Another Little Child 
joyfully. 

“Oh, waffles!” exclaimed One Little Child joy¬ 
fully. 

“I wonder what waffles are,” clucked Little Red 
Hen. “Thev seem to be something nice.” 

But Towzer had never seen waffles any more 
than Little Red Hen, and so he could not inform 
her. 

The three little children knew very well what 
waffles were, however, and the thought of waffles 
helped them through with their dressing. They 



CHICKS AND CHILDREN 


35 


soon got their clothes and their shoes and stock¬ 
ings on, their hair combed and their teeth brushed, 
and were ready to come downstairs. 

All the house was quiet now. No more bowlings 
and shrieks came through the windows to the porch. 
Towzer closed the other eye and went off sound 
asleep. 

Little Red Hen jumped down from the porch 
and walked slowly across the yard to a shady place 
under the lilac bush. 

“Well, well, no doubt it’s very fine to be a grand 
lady or a grand gentleman, and to dress up every 
morning and to undress every night,” she said to 
herself, “but still I must say I think there are ad¬ 
vantages in being just a little red hen or a dog.” 



PUSSY IN THE BASKET 


O NE day Little Red Hen was lying in the road 
taking a dust bath. Perhaps you have never 
taken a dust bath. If you have not, that proves 
you are not a little red hen or any other kind of 
hen. For all hens dearly love to take dust baths. 
They like to sprawl in the dust, and stretch out 
their wings, and wriggle around so that the dust 
goes all through their ruffled feathers. Then they 
like to get up and shake themselves, for then the 
dust and sand and all comes flying out again. This 
kind of bath makes hens feel as fresh and clean as 
a bath in a tub with soap and water would make 
you and me feel. 

As I started out by saying, Little Red Hen was 
lying in the road taking a dust bath. It was a 
warm sunny day and the road was very dry. The 
dust was so thick in the road that it made a fine 
bathing place for hens. Of course when it rained, 
all this dust would be turned to mud. But it had 
not rained for days, and it looked as though it was 
never going to rain again. 

Little Red Hen was not lying in the middle of 
road, but at the side where the wheels run. Here 
there was a hollow in the road of which Little Red 

36 


PUSSY IN THE BASKET 


37 


Hen was very fond. She regarded it as her own 
special private dust bath tub. She lay in it now, 
her wings spread out and her eyes almost shut. 
The bright sun was so pleasant and the warm dust 
made her feel so drowsy that Little Red Hen was 
on the point of falling asleep. She was at peace 
with the world, and in fact she had almost forgotten 
that there was a world. 

That was why Little Red Hen did not notice a 
big shiny automobile until it was so near that it 
seemed on top of her. “Honk! Honk!” The 
driver of the automobile blew his horn and Little 
Red Hen flew up in a whirl of dust, squawking at 
the top of her voice. Luckily the automobile did 
not run over Little Red Hen. She managed to es¬ 
cape into the grass at the side of the road. She 
stood there panting with fright and watched the 
big automobile. With a bounce it went over the 
bath tub in the road where Little Red Hen had been 
lying just a minute before, peacefully enjoying her 
dust bath. Then it went speeding down the road, 
leaving clouds of white dust in the air behind it. 

But the automobile left something else behind it 
besides clouds of white dust. For when it bounced 
over Little Red lien’s bath tub, it bounced some¬ 
thing out of the automobile. The people in the 
automobile paid no attention because they never 
missed the object that had been bounced out. So 
there it was, lying right in the middle of the road. 



38 


THE KITCHEN PORCH 


“Cluck, cluck,” said Little Red Hen to herself, 
eyeing it cautiously. “What have we here and what 
is it for?” 

She was suspicious of the strange looking object 
and approached it very carefully. But Little Red 
Hen, though she was timid, had also an inquisitive 
streak in her nature. If she saw something she 
did not understand, she could not let it alone until 
she knew more about it. So now she approached 
this object first on one side, looking at it out of 
one eye, and then on another side, looking at it with 
the other eye. 

But Little Red Hen need not have been so timid. 
The object was only a basket. 

“Why, I believe it’s only a basket,” said Little 
Red Hen, after she had examined it from every 
possible side. “And if it is a basket, perhaps there 
is something in it.” 

When Little Red Hen had come nearer, however, 
she found that the basket had a lid on it. 

“This begins to look very mysterious,” she said. 
“Why should this basket have a lid on it?” 

As there seemed to be no way of telling why the 
basket had a lid on it except by examining it more 
carefully, Little Red Hen came up a little closer 
to the basket. Then she could hear something 
moving around in the basket. It seemed to be 
scratching the sides of the basket and trying to 
get out. 



PUSSY IN THE BASKET 


39 


“Dear me!” said Little Red Hen. “There is 
something alive in the basket. What can it be?” 

In a moment she knew very well what it was, 
for she heard a gentle little voice coming from the 
basket. 

“Mew, mew,” explained Gentle Voice. “I am 
a little pussy cat. Won’t you let me out?” 

“Oh, you poor little pussy cat,” said Little Red 
Hen kindly. “Of course I will let you out if I can. 
How shall I do it?” 

“Can’t you take the lid off the basket?” asked 
Gentle Voice. 

“I wish I could,” answered Little Red Hen, 
“but it is tied on so tight that I can’t budge it. But 
here comes Fat Duck. Maybe he can help us.” 

“Quack, quack,” said Fat Duck in a very loud 
tone. “What’s going on here? Is it something 
to eat?” 

“Oh, don’t you see?” cried Little Red Hen. 
“This is a basket, and it fell out of the automobile, 
and there is a little pussy cat in it, and the little 
pussy cat wants to get out. What shall we do?” 

“I don’t see that we need to do much of any¬ 
thing,” declared Fat Duck. “I thought it was 
something to eat. If the pussy cat wants to get 
out, let her climb out. No doubt she climbed in, 
and she can very well climb out.” 

“Yes, but the basket has a lid on it,” answered 
Little Red Hen, “and the lid is tied down tight.” 




40 


THE KITCHEN PORCH 


“Oh, if there is a lid on the basket, that makes 
quite another matter of it,” said Fat Duck. “My 
advice is that you had better have nothing to do 
with it. For myself, I never meddle with baskets 
with lids on them. You can never tell about them, 
and it’s always best to be on the safe side.” 

“But the poor little kitten wants to get out of 
the basket,” insisted Little Red Hen. “We ought 
to help her.” 

“Oh, quack, quack!” said Fat Duck. “Why 
worry about a poor little kitten? But here comes 
Big Goose. He may have some plan to propose.” 

“Oh, Big Goose,” said Little Red Hen, “can’t 
you do something to help this poor little pussy out 
of this basket? The lid is tied tight and she can’t 
get out.” 

“S-s-s-s-s! S-s-s-s-s!” hissed Big Goose. “Did 
you say there was a pussy in that basket? Ha ha! 
What a good joke!” 

All this time Gentle Voice was mewing and ask¬ 
ing to be taken out of the basket. She wanted to 
get out and play around. 

“Yes, there is a pussy in that basket,” said Little 
Red Hen indignantly. “And I don’t see why it is 
a good joke. How would you like to he shut up 
in a basket forever and ever?” 

“Oh, as to that,” answered Big Goose, “I never 
have tried it and cannot say. But I should think 
a basket might do very well for a little pussy cat. 




PUSSY IN THE BASKET 


41 


However, here come Lord and Lady Turkey wing. 
We can’t decide anything anyway without asking 
them, and we had better wait and hear what they 
have to say.” 

“Gobble, gobble!” said Lord Turkeywing very 
grandly as he came up. “What does this unseemly 
behavior mean? Why are you all standing here 
gossiping in the middle of the road?” 

“Indeed we are not gossiping,” declared Little 
Red Hen. “We are talking about a poor little 
pussy cat in this basket. She wants to get out and 
the lid is tied down fast.” 

“Tut, tut! don’t talk to me about poor little pussy 
cats,” said Lord Turkey wing sternly. “I am 
much too important a person to have anything to 
do with poor people of any kind. Come, Lady 
Turkeywing, let us not dawdle here on the public 
highway.” 



“How very unfortunate!” exclaimed Lady Tur¬ 
keywing in a cold distant voice as she passed by. 





42 


THE KITCHEN PORCH 


But whether she meant something was unfortunate 
for the poor little pussy cat or for herself, it was 
hard to tell. At any rate, Lord and Lady Turkey¬ 
wing wasted no pity on Gentle Voice. They flew 
over a fence into a field near by, where they amused 
themselves with the royal sport of hunting grass¬ 
hoppers. 

By this time Little Red Hen was almost in 
despair. 

“Oh dear! Oh dear!” she exclaimed. “Is there 
no one who will help me to undo the lid of this bas¬ 
ket so that the poor little pussy can get out?” 

Little Red Hen tried again and again, but the 
lid was fastened too tight for her to do anything 
with it. Finally, however, a new idea came to her. 
She began to squawk, and she squawked and 
squawked as loud as she could. If you had heard 
her you would have thought that something dread¬ 
ful had happened. 

“What’s the great idea?” quacked Fat Duck. 

“Oh, Little Red Hen,” cackled Big Goose, “you 
can’t imagine how ridiculous you look, squawking 
that way.” 

“How indelicate!” murmured Lady Turkey¬ 
wing, with a haughty stare from the field on the 
other side of the fence. 

But Little Red Hen did not care what Fat Duck 
or Big Goose or Lord Turkey wing and Lady Tur¬ 
keywing said or thought. She had a plan of her 



PUSSY IN THE BASKET 


43 


own in all this squawking. She knew that if she 
could not get the lid off the basket, she must have 
help to do it. And she knew, also, that if she 
squawked long enough and loud enough, help would 
certainly come. 

Just as Little lied Hen was squawking her loud¬ 
est, a little girl with blue eyes came to the window 
of the house. 

“Mercy me!” exclaimed Blue Eyes. “What is 
the meaning of that terrible racket out there on the 
road? And what are Little Bed Hen and Fat 
Duck and Big Goose all standing there for? I 
think I must go out and see.” 

Blue Eyes did not wait to put on her hat, but 
ran out of the house to the road at once. As soon 
as Little Bed Hen saw Blue Eyes coming she 
stopped her squawking, because she knew that Blue 
Eyes would help her take the lid off the basket. 

“This is the strangest thing I have ever seen,” 
said Blue Eyes to Little Bed Hen and Fat Duck 
and Big Goose. “Why are you all standing around 
this basket afid looking so solemn?” 

“Cluck, cluck!” said Little Bed Hen. 

“Quack, quack!” said Fat Duck, and he kept 
on saying it. 

“S-s-s-s-s, S-s-s-s-s!” hissed Big Goose. 

“Well, if you won’t tell me what it’s all about,” 
said Blue Eyes, “I must look for myself.” 

She picked up the basket and peeped through 



44 


THE KITCHEN PORCH 


the cracks. She saw inside tired little Gentle 
Voice curled up and sound asleep. 

“Oh, you darling little pussy cat!” exclaimed 
Blue Eyes. “Plow did you ever get in this basket, 
and how am I ever going to get you out?” 

Blue Eyes tried and tried, but she could not un¬ 
fasten the lid of the basket. 

“I see I must take the basket in to Mother and 
have her help me,” said Blue Eyes finally. 

Blue Eyes started to run to the house. She ran 
through the gate with the basket in her hand, and 
she had almost reached the house, when she heard 
Little Red Hen squawking again. 

“What is the matter now?” cried Blue Eyes. “I 
will set my basket down here for a minute and run 
back and see.” 

Blue Eyes ran back to the gate, and just as she 
got there, she saw someone come flying down the 
road. It was a little girl, and she was coming so 
fast that her hair was streaming out behind her. 
Her hair was brown, and so also were her eves. 
When she reached the gate and saw Blue Eyes 
standing there she stopped. 

“Oh, little girl,” asked Brown Eyes, “have you 
seen anything of a basket with a pussy cat named 
Gentle Voice in it?” 

“Why do you ask me if I have seen a basket 
with a pussy cat in it?” answered Blue Eyes. 

“Because I have lost my pussy cat, and she was 



PUSSY IN THE BASKET 


45 


in a basket,” replied Brown Eyes. “It was in the 
back seat. I mean the basket was—and it got 
bounced out. I was in the front seat and did not 
notice it. And now my poor little pussy cat is lost 
and I may never find her again.” 

“Well, since you ask me,” confessed Blue Eyes, 
“I did see a basket with a pussy cat in it. I found 
it on the road, and there it is.” 

“Yes, yes, that’s the one!” exclaimed Brown 
Eyes, as she ran to the basket. “You dear, dear 
little pussy, and have I found you again? I hope 
no harm has happened to you. My little pussy is 
very delicate, you know,” explained Brown Eyes 
to Blue Eyes. “She is only about three weeks 
old and this is the first time she has been away 
from her mother.” 

“Where did you get her?” asked Blue Eyes. 

“She is a present to me,” explained Brown 
Eyes. “We were just taking her home in the 
automobile when the basket was bounced out and 
my poor little pussy cat got lost.” 

“Won’t you take her out of the basket and let 
me see her?” asked Blue Eyes. 

“To be sure I will,” answered Brown Eyes, “if 
I can get the lid off.” 

Then Brown Eyes tried to get the lid off and 
Blue Eyes tried to get the lid off. But it was fas¬ 
tened too securely for them to move it. 

As they were trying to remove the lid, they 



46 


THE KITCHEN PORCH 


heard someone blowing an automobile horn. 
“Honk! Honk!” said the horn. 

“Oh, that is my Daddy’s automobile!” exclaimed 
Brown Eyes. “And there is my Daddy. I’m so 
sorry, but I must go now. Thank you ever so 
much for finding my little pussy. And I hope you 
will come over to my house some day and we will 
play together with the little pussy.” 

“I shall be very glad to come,” said Blue Eyes 
politely. “Good-by, little Gentle Voice. I hope 
you reach home without any more mishaps.” 

Brown Eyes got into the automobile, but this 
time she did not put the basket on the back seat. 
Instead she held it firmly in her own lap. The 
automobile whizzed down the road, leaving more 
clouds of white dust behind it, and in a few minutes 
it was out of sight. Blue Eyes stood at the gate 
for a moment and then went back into the house. 
Fat Duck waddled off to hunt for worms, and Big 
Goose went with him. 

“Wasn’t that a beautiful automobile!” exclaimed 
Lady Turkeywing to Lord Turkeywing. “I per¬ 
fectly adore automobiles when they are so big and 
black and shiny.” 

Little Red Hen did not say anything. Now 
that all was peaceful again, she went back to her 
bath tub to finish her dust bath. 

How delightful it was to scratch in the warm 
dry dust! And how nice it was that Gentle Voice 




77 was fastened too securely for them to 
move it. 


































PUSSY IN THE BASKET 


47 


had not been hurt in the least when she fell out of 
the automobile. To be sure, neither Little Bed 
Hen nor Fat Duck nor Big Goose nor Lord Tur¬ 
keywing nor Lady Turkey wing nor Blue Eyes nor 
Brown Eyes had succeeded in getting Gentle Voice 
out of the basket. And Little Bed Hen was com¬ 
pelled regretfully to acknowledge that Fat Duck 
and Big Goose and Lord and Lady Turkeywing 
had not cared much whether Gentle Voice got out 
of the basket or not. But after all there was no 
denying that the basket was the best place for 
Gentle Voice until Brown Eyes had brought her 
safely home. So everything had turned out right 
after all. 

“Everything usually does turn out right/’ 
thought Little Bed Hen contentedly, “if you give 
it time enough. But I do hope if any more auto¬ 
mobiles come along this road while I am in my 
bath tub that they will blow their horns in time, 
and not give me another such fright as I have just 



WHAT ARABELLA DID 


“TS1\ T, ’T it cosy and pleasant, all sitting out here 

X on the porch together?” said Little Red Hen 
amicably. 

As she made this remark in the language of 
hens, however, I don’t think it was completely un¬ 
derstood. Most people would have thought when 
Little Red Hen spoke that she was just clucking 
around, on the whole very contentedly but with 
nothing special on her mind. It was really neces¬ 
sary to know the language of hens very well in 
order always to understand what Little Red Hen 
was saying. 

But whether they understood Little Red Hen 
or not, it was indeed pleasant on the kitchen porch. 
It was hot outside in the glare of the sun, but cool 
and quiet here in the shade. Good Cook was sit¬ 
ting on the step shelling peas for dinner. Tow- 
zer was lying on the floor as usual, half asleep and 
half awake. He was a very lazy old dog and 
never moved or spoke unless he had to. 

But Little Red Hen was not at all lazy. She 
was never still two minutes. She hopped up and 
down from the ground to the porch and from the 
porch to the ground, or walked about from one 

48 


WHAT ARABELLA DID 


49 


person to another, visiting each in turn and al¬ 
ways very curious about what each one was doing. 

Just now Little Red Hen was most interested 
in what Arabella was doing. Arabella was one of 
the children and she loved to sit on the kitchen 
porch. Arabella had a slate and a slate pencil, and 
she was drawing pictures, and doing arithmetic, and 
writing out words in spelling, and doing all sorts of 
school tasks on her slate. She would fill the slate 
with pictures or figures, and then would rub them 
all out with her slate rag and start over again. 
This would make any slate rag very grimy, and 
the one Arabella had was especially grimy because 
Arabella had been using it for a long time. 

But I have not yet told you about all the people 
on the porch. Besides Little Red Hen and Tow- 
zer and Good Cook and Arabella, there was also 
Good Cook’s father. He was quite an old man, 
and though he was not so very, very much older 
than Good Cook, he seemed so. When he was 
younger he had been a policeman. But now he was 
too old to be a policeman, and anyway he did not 
need to be a policeman any longer because he had 
a pension. He had nothing to do now but sit in his 
chair all day long, and he never did much more 
than this. When he was younger he was a good 
policeman. In fact, he was a regular human 
Watch Dog. But now that he was old there 
was not much left for Watch Dog to watch. He 



50 


THE KITCHEN PORCH 


had lived so long that there was nothing left in 
the world that he cared for. He was just like 
Towzer, half asleep and half awake all the time. 
And he never spoke—he only growled. He was 
a good old Watch Dog, with his teeth taken out. 
For time, which weakens the mightiest, had taken 
the bite out of his bark, and now all there was left 
for him to do was to growl. But he could still 
growl terribly, and this showed that there must have 
been some things that Watch Dog really cared 
about, or he would not even have growled. 

Now the one thing that Watch Dog cared most 
seriously about was also on the porch. It was in 
a glass globe that was standing on a little table. 
Arabella was sitting on one side of this table with 
her slate, her pencil and her slate rag, and Watch 
Dog was sitting on the other side. The glass globe 
was on the middle of the table between them. No 
doubt you have already guessed what was in the 
glass globe. It was a goldfish. This was the 
one thing in the world that Watch Dog really cared 
about. 

To be sure it was a very remarkable goldfish, 
though you would not have known that it was re¬ 
markable just by looking at it. It was a rather 
pretty goldfish, but it would not have been hard 
to find others just as pretty. It was the color of 
red gold, but it had some silver spots on its sides, 




WHAT ARABELLA DID 


51 


and that was the reason why it was called Silver- 
sides. 

If Silversides was not remarkable for her looks, 
neither was she remarkable for anything she could 
do. She could do nothing clever, and not even 
anything intelligent. She had learned no tricks, 
and she did not even know her own name. All 
she could do was to swim around in the water of 
her glass globe, poking her nose into the pebbles at 
the bottom now and then, but never by any chance 
doing anything unexpected or exciting. 



Yet Watch Dog loved Silversides. He loved 
her more than anything else in the world, and he 
watched over her as carefully as though she had 
been made of real gold and weighed a thousand 
pounds, instead of about two ounces. 

But there really was one thing for which Silver- 












52 


THE KITCHEN PORCH 


sides was remarkable. She was twenty-four years 
old! Think of that! She had been Watch Dog’s 
goldfish for twenty-four years. For twenty-four 
years he had changed her water every day, had 
given her food when she needed it, had seen to it 
that she was not too cold in cold weather or too hot 
in warm weather. He would not permit anyone 
else to do anything for Silversides. He growled 
even if Good Cook came too near to her or touched 
her glass bowl with her hands. Silversides was 
Watch Dog’s own special private property. If 
he had not had Silversides to care for and to think 
about, there would have been nothing left in the 
world for him to do. So Watch Dog took care of 
Silversides and watched over her and kept her 
alive. And Silversides in turn, though she did 
not know it, helped to keep Watch Dog alive by 
giving him something that he could still growl over. 

Everybody knew that Silversides was a very re¬ 
markable goldfish. She was highly respected for 
her great age, though no one loved her as tenderly 
as Watch Dog. It is not easy to love a gold¬ 
fish. But no one had ever heard of a goldfish as 
old as Silversides, and that made her very famous. 
She was almost as old as Good Cook and she was 
twice as old as Arabella. As for Little Red Hen, 
she was only a downy little chick in comparison 
with the ripe years of Silversides. 

And the wonder was that Silversides bore her 



WHAT ARABELLA DID 


53 


years so well. There was not a gray hair on her 
head, but of course the reason may have been that 
she had no hair to turn gray. But there were no 
other signs, either, by which you could tell that she 
was so old. She swam around in her glass globe 
just as swiftly and easily now as she had done 
twenty-four years ago when Watch Dog first put 
her in it. 

‘‘Dear me! I wish I were a goldfish,” Little Red 
Hen would sigh now and then, when she thought 
how highly Silversides was honored and how ten¬ 
derly she was guarded. “Then I might live to be 
twenty-four years old, too, and be famous.” 

Little Red Hen was not usually of an envious 
disposition, but it must be acknowledged that Sil¬ 
versides led a peaceful and sheltered life. It is 
not every goldfish, however, that has a loving hu¬ 
man Watch Dog to take such good care of it that 
it can live to be twenty-four years old. 

So there they were, all on the kitchen porch, Good 
Cook shelling peas, Towzer sleeping, Watch Dog 
one eye asleep, the other eye on Silversides, Ara¬ 
bella drawing pictures on her slate and rubbing 
them out again with her slate rag, and Little Red 
Hen watching Arabella. 

Then it was that Arabella did something that 
dropped like a bombshell in the midst of this quiet 
scene. How she happened to do it she never could 
explain. She knew it was a dreadful thing to do, 



54 


THE KITCHEN PORCH 


and the only reason for doing it she could give was 
that she didn’t think. Didn’t think! How absurd! 
As though one could do a thing like that without 
thinking. 

I suppose you want to know what she did. Very 
well, I am going to tell you. She dipped her 
dirty, grimy, messy slate rag, to wet it, into the 
water in Silverside’s bowl! Think of that! Sil- 
versides, who was twenty-four years old, who had 
always been cared for as tenderly as a babe, to be 
insulted this way! To have a dirty slate rag 
stuck in the sacred water in which the precious 
Silversides lived and breathed and had her being! 

With his one open eye, Watch Dog saw what 
Arabella had done. At first he could not believe 
his senses. Had this dreadful thing really hap¬ 
pened? Yes, there could be no doubt of it. There 
was Arabella, calmly washing her slate clean with 
the dirty wet slate rag. 

Then Watch Dog rose up. He growled fiercely. 
It was like the rolling of thunder. He fright¬ 
ened everybody so that Good Cook dropped her 
peas and they ran all over the porch floor. Ara¬ 
bella dropped her slate pencil and it broke in six 
different pieces. Little Red Hen did not have 
anything to drop, unless it may have been a feather 
or two, as she flew quickly away at the sound of 
this terrible growling. Towzer woke up and also 
began to growl, but his growling was nothing com- 



WHAT ARABELLA DID 


55 


pared with the sounds that issued from Watch 
Dog’s throat. 

Seizing the glass bowl with Silversides in it be¬ 
tween his two paws and still growling fiercely, 
Watch Dog bore the insulted goldfish into the 
kitchen. He removed every drop of the old water 
from the globe and filled it with entirely fresh and 
new water. He watched Silversides carefully, but 
he could not see that she was any the worse off 
for having had Arabella’s grimy slate rag dipped 
into her bowl. 

But what a way to treat a goldfish! Especially 
a goldfish like this, twenty-four years old, that had 
never had a harsh word spoken to it in all its life! 
Thus Watch Dog kept on growling until he had 
relieved to some extent his indignant feelings. 
Finally he brought the globe back and placed it 
again on the table, still growling, but more gently 
now. 

You can imagine how badly Arabella felt about 
what she had done. She apologized to Watch Dog, 
and she apologized to Silversides, and she explained 
again and again to Good Cook how she came to do 
it. Only her explanations were not really explana¬ 
tions, because all she could say was that she didn’t 
stop to think. But she promised that she would 
always stop to think after this, and that she would 
never, never again touch the globe in which Silver- 
sides lived, or the table on which the globe was 



56 


THE KITCHEN PORCH 


set. She promised that she would leave the pre¬ 
cious Silversides altogether and severely alone. 

In time Watch Dog quieted down and accepted 
Arabella’s apologies. He stopped his growling 
and Towzer stopped his howling. The kitchen 
porch was peaceful once more. By this time Good 
Cook had finished shelling her peas, and having 
gathered up those that had fallen on the floor, she 
took them into the kitchen. Arabella also decided 
that she had had enough of drawing and writing on 
her slate, and she went into the house to practice her 
music lesson. Towzer fell into a sound sleep, and 
having nothing else to do, Little Red Hen started 
for a walk in the garden. Watch Dog and Silver- 
sides were left in lonely state on the back porch. 
They were happy with each other, or at least as 
happy as an old human Watch Dog who does 
nothing but growl and a goldfish that has lived 
twenty-four years in a glass bowl can be expected 
to be. 

“Well, well,” said Little Red Hen, as she picked 
a half-ripe currant from the currant bush, “no 
doubt Silversides is a very famous and important 
goldfish, but I must say, if you have to be as care¬ 
ful with goldfish as all that, I’d just as soon be a 
hen.” 



SLY FOX 


O NE day Little Red Hen was feeling rather 
lonesome. The family had all gone away on 
a picnic. Good Cook was taking a vacation and 
had locked the kitchen door and departed for the 
day. Towzer was asleep and would not wake up. 
There seemed to be nothing to do. But it was a 
warm, sunny day, much too nice a day to be spent 
indoors. At last, however, an idea came to Little 
Red Hen. 

“I think I may as well go over to visit Speckled 
Hen this afternoon,” said Little Red Hen. 

“I haven’t been to see her for a long, long time, 
and I don’t know but she may be sick or something. 

“I will go and visit her, and we can have a nice 
cosy afternoon together. 

“Perhaps I had better take my sewing with me, 
and I’m sure Speckled Hen will enjoy a pot of 
my new strawberry jam and some of my sweet 
ginger cookies. 

“I will put all the things in my dress suit case 
and then they will be easy to carry.” 

So Little Red Hen got out her dress suit case 
and dusted it off and packed in it her needles and 

thread, and her thimble, and a little white apron 

57 


58 


THE KITCHEN PORCH 


that she was making. Of course she did not for¬ 
get to put in the strawberry jam and the ginger 
cookies. 

When the dress suit case was all packed, Little 
Red Hen started out on her way. She walked 
down the road for some distance. Then she 
crossed over the road to a great wide hayfield where 
the men were busy hauling in the hay which they 
had cut. 

“What a beautiful day it is!” exclaimed Little 
Red Hen as she started through the field. 
“Though I must say it is much warmer than I 
thought it was. It seems to be getting warmer 
all the time.” 

But it was not getting warmer. It was only 
Little Red Hen who was getting warmer. The 
suit case, with all the things packed in it, was be¬ 
coming quite heavy. Of course the suit case was 
not crammed full. There would have been room 
in it for quantities of other things besides her sew¬ 
ing and the strawberry jam and ginger cookies, if 
Little Red Hen had wanted to put them there. 

But it was heavy enough. And it is strange, 
but quite true, that after one has been carrying 
something for a while, it seems to grow heavier 
and heavier. 

That is the way it was with Little Red Hen’s 
suit case. It became heavier, and as it became 



SLY FOX 


59 


heavier, Little Red Hen became hotter and hotter. 

Finally she said, “I think I will go out of this 
field into the woods on the other side. I am sure 
it will be much cooler in the nice shady woods.” 

Little Red Hen crossed over the field and walked 
along through the woods. It was very pleasant 
and quiet in the woods. Very soon, however, 
whom should she meet but Sly Fox! Though he 
seemed much surprised to see Little Red Hen in 
the woods, Sly Fox was very polite. 



“Good afternoon, Little Red Hen,” said Sly 
Fox. “Isn’t this a lovely day?” 

“Good afternoon, Sly Fox,” answered Little 
Red Hen, not to be outdone in politeness. “Yes, 
indeed, it is a most lovely afternoon, though it is 
a little warm.” 

“I’m afraid that dress suit case is too heavy for 
you,” said Sly Fox. “Please let me carry it for 
you.” 

“It is a little heavy,” acknowledged Little Red 







60 


THE KITCHEN PORCH 


Hen. “But I couldn’t think of letting you carry it 
for me. I know you are a very busy man and have 
a great many things to do.” 

“Oh, no,” answered Sly Fox. “I am not busy 
at all. I shall be delighted to be of service to you. 
I am only out for a walk, and may as well go in 
one direction as another. Only tell me where you 
are going, and it will give me pleasure to carry 
your dress suit case there.” 

“Well, if you insist,” said Little Red Hen, as 
she gave the suit case to Sly Fox. “I was going 
over to pay a visit to my good old friend, Speckled 
Hen.” 

“Isn’t it just too lucky that I met you!” ex¬ 
claimed Sly Fox. “I can save you some useless 
steps. For I happen to know that Speckled Hen 
isn’t at home this afternoon. In fact, she is over 
at my house, spending the afternoon with my wife. 
I left them at home when I started for my walk. 
Now the best thing you can do is to come along with 
me to my house. My wife will be glad to see you, 
and you can spend the afternoon with her and 
Speckled Hen. Thus we can kill two birds with 
one stone, as the saying is.” 

Little Red Hen did not altogether like this 
plan, for the truth was, Sly Fox had not a very 
good reputation. It was said that he had even been 
known to catch unsuspecting hens and carry them 
off and eat them. There seemed nothing else for 



SLY FOX 


61 


Little Red Hen to do, however, unless she went 
back home without paying her visit to Speckled 
Hen at all. As she did not want to do this, Little 
Red Hen went along with Sly Fox. 

After they had been walking for a while they 
came to Sly Fox’s home. It was in a very quiet 
part of the woods, far away from any houses. 

“Well, here we are,” said Sly Fox, when they had 
reached his den. “We can go right in and have 
a good time.” 

“Is that the place?” asked Little Red Hen, 
with surprise. “It doesn’t look much like a house.” 

“Yes, that’s it,” answered Sly Fox. “But you 
mustn’t judge it by the outside. You will find 
that inside it’s just as cosy, dry and warm a house 
as anyone could wish. Just go right in and make 
yourself at home.” 

To little Red Hen, Sly Fox’s home looked like 
nothing but a hole in the ground among some large 
stones. But if Sly Fox said it was all right, she 
thought it must be so. She ventured in a little way 
and Sly Fox came pressing along close behind her. 

“It seems to be very dark in here,” remarked 
Little Red Hen. 

“Well, yes, it is a little dark,” agreed Sly Fox. 
“You see I didn’t put any windows in my house. I 
don’t believe in windows. Other people are al¬ 
ways peeping through them and meddling with 
your private affairs. There is only one way to get 



62 


THE KITCHEN PORCH 


into my house and one way to get out, and that is 
by this front door.” 

When Little Red Hen heard that it made her a 
little nervous. 

“Dear me,” she thought to herself, though she 
said nothing, “how shall I get out if it’s necessary 
for me to get out in a hurry?” 

By this time Little Red Hen’s eyes were used 
to the dim light in Sly Fox’s house. She could 
see all around it, but she did not see either Speckled 
Hen or Sly Vixen, who was Sly Fox’s wife. 

“How is this?” she asked Sly Fox. “I don’t see 
either Speckled Hen or Sly Vixen. Where are 
they?” 

“Oh, don’t worry,” said Sly Fox. “They must 
have stepped out for a moment. They will be right 
back, I am sure. Just go on in and make yourself 
comfortable. We will make some tea and have it 
ready as a surprise when Speckled Hen and Sly 
Vixen come back.” 

There was nothing else for Little Red Hen to do, 
because Sly Fox was right back of her and was 
pushing her along. She walked into Sly Fox’s 
parlor and looked around her. She saw no signs 
of Sly Vixen, but behind some stones in a corner 
she did see a lot of feathers that looked very much 
like Speckled Hen’s feathers. 

“What will become of me now?” thought Little 
Red Hen to herself. “I’m sure Sly Fox has lured 



SLY FOX 


63 


me into his den with the intention of eating me. 
And I’m very much afraid that is what he has al¬ 
ready done to Speckled Hen.” 

But Little Red Hen said nothing about her sus¬ 
picions. Instead she took off her bonnet and her 
gloves as though she were going to settle down for a 
pleasant afternoon. All the time, however, she 
was thinking of some way by which she could escape 
from Sly Fox. 

“That is a very good idea of yours about having 
tea,” she said to Sly Fox. “And I’m so glad I 
brought some of my new strawberry jam and some 
sweet ginger cookies with me. They are right in 
the dress suit case. We can have them with our 
tea.” 

When Sly Fox heard about the strawberry jam 
and the ginger cookies, his mouth began to water. 
Sly Fox had a sweet tooth and strawberry jam was 
his special favorite. 

“Please give me the key,” he said to Little Red 
Hen, “and I will get the jam and the cookies at 
once.” 

“Here it is,” replied Little Red Plen, taking the 
key from her handbag. “But be careful and don’t 
soil the white apron I’ve got in there. I brought it 
along, thinking I might do a little sewing.” 

“No, no,” said Sly Fox. “I won’t disturb the 
apron.” 

But Sly Fox was in such a hurry to get at the 



64 


THE KITCHEN PORCH 


jam and the cookies that he stuck his paws in as 
soon as the suit case was unlocked and began rum¬ 
maging around without paying any attention to the 
apron. 

“I don’t feel any jam or cookies/’ he said to 
Little Red Hen. ‘‘Here is a spool of thread. 
And here is a thimble. Ouch! Ouch! That must 
have been a needle I stuck in my paw.” 

“Yes, there are a lot of needles in there,” said 
Little Red Hen. “If you rummage around that 
way you will get your paws stuck full of needles. 
I think you had better look in and see what you 
are doing.” 

“I think so, too,” agreed Sly Fox. “Because we 
must get that jam and those cookies.” 

Sly Fox put his nose in under the lid and pushed 
it up. Then he got his whole head and his neck in. 

“Here they are,” he said in a muffled voice, 
“away over in the corner.” 

He crept in still further until half of his body 
was in the suit case. But then, just as he came 
within reach of the jam and the cookies, Little 
Red Hen gave him a big shove so that his whole 
body except the tip of his tail went into the suit 
case. Then she slammed the lid down as quick as 
a wink, turned the key in the lock, and there was 
Sly Fox shut up in the suit case as tight as a penny 
in a pocket book. 

“Let me out! Let me out!” he shouted. But 



SLY FOX 


65 


the suit case was so thick that his voice could 
scarcely be heard. 

“Let you out indeed!” exclaimed Little Red 
Hen. “Will you tell me what has become of 
Speckled Hen? I know you are a wicked old fox 
and would gladly eat me if you had a chance.” 

Sly Fox thrashed around in the suit case and up¬ 
set the strawberry jam and crushed all the cookies 
to little crumbs. The inside of the suit case was a 
dreadful mess of sticky fox and strawberry jam 
and crumbled cookies, and Little Red Hen’s white 
apron that she was making was completely ruined. 
But Little Red Hen did not care for that. She 
was only too glad to have Sly Fox shut up where 
he could do no harm to her. 

“I think I had better be moving out of here,” said 
Little Red Hen. “Perhaps Sly Vixen may come 
back and find me here in her house.” 

She took up the suit case and started off through 
the woods. The suit case was really very heavy 
now, and it was all Little Ren Hen could do to 
carry it. But she managed to stagger along with 
it until she reached a road that ran along the side 
of the woods. Here she sat down and waited for 
someone to come along. 

Very soon she heard the rumbling of a wagon in 
the road. In a moment the wagon came into sight 
and Little Red Hen saw that it was Farmer 
Clovertop with his hay wagon. 




66 


THE KITCHEN PORCH 


“What’s the matter, Little Red Hen?” said 
Farmer Clovertop as he stopped his horses. “You 
look all tuckered out.” 

“Oh, Farmer Clovertop, I have had such a dread¬ 
ful experience,” replied Little Red Hen. “I am 
all in a flutter. Sly Fox almost caught me, but I 
caught him instead, and I’ve got him here in my 
suit case.” 

“What, have you got Sly Fox?” exclaimed 
Farmer Clovertop. “If you have, that’s the best 
news I’ve heard in a month of Sundays. That 
miserable fox has been carrying off ducks and 
geese and chickens for a long long time, and I have 
never been able to catch him.” 

“Well, here he is,” said Little Red Hen, “and 
I’m sure you are welcome to him. You can see a 
part of his tail sticking out.” 

Farmer Clovertop was delighted when he saw 
the tip of Sly Fox’s tail, because he knew if the end 
of his tail was on the outside of the suit case, the 
rest of Sly Fox must be on the inside. By this time 
Sly Fox had quieted down. He was not saying a 
word, though he was doing a good deal of hard 
thinking. 

“My notion is we had better take him back home 
before we open the suit case,” said Farmer Clover¬ 
top. 

He lifted the suit case and placed it on the 
wagon. The horses jogged along slowly and 




“Oh, Farmer Clovertop, I have had such a 
dreadful experience 


































SLY FOX 


67 


Little Red Hen followed at the side of the road. 

Soon they drove into the barnyard and then there 
was great excitement when Farmer Clovertop said 
that Little Red Hen had caught Sly Fox in her suit 
case and that they had brought him back with them. 

“We must all be ready when I open the suit 
case,” explained Farmer Clovertop. “Sly Fox 
will probably pop out and try to run away.” 

So Farmer Clovertop got his gun, and the hired 
man had a pitchfork, and Farmer Clovertop’s wife 
had a broom, and half a score of boys and men that 
had gathered around had sticks and clubs and 
stones and anything else they could throw or poke 
at Sly Fox. 

When they were all ready Farmer Clovertop 
started to open the suit case. Little Red Hen 
gave him the key and he unlocked it and raised the 
lid just a tiny crack. Sly Fox did not budge or 
make a sound. Then Farmer Clovertop lifted the 
lid a little higher. Still Sly Fox did not budge or 
make a sound. Farmer Clovertop lifted it still 
higher, and then looked in and could see Sly Fox 
stretched out in the suit case as still as death. 

“I do believe he has been smothered to death in 
the suit case,” said Farmer Clovertop. “Look, he 

doesn’t move at all and you can’t see him breath- 

• >> 
mg. 

Everybody crowded around to see Sly Fox. 
They poked him with a stick, but Sly Fox never 



68 


THE KITCHEN PORCH 


stirred. Some said they were sure he was dead 
and some said that perhaps he had only fainted. 
Rut they all agreed that if he had not fainted, then 
he was surely dead. 

“The first thing to do, then,” said Farmer 
Clovertop, “is to find out if he has fainted. Some¬ 
body run to the house and get a basin of water to 
sprinkle on him, and somebody bring some smell¬ 
ing salts, and somebody fetch a straw to tickle his 
nose with, because if he has only fainted he will 
sneeze if you tickle his nose with a straw.” 

Three or four started off at once to get the water, 
and three or four more to get the smelling salts, and 
half a dozen to get a straw. All the time Sly Fox 
was peeping out of the corner of his eye, and as 
soon as he saw that almost everybody had gone off 
on one or the other of these errands, up he jumped 
as lively as a cricket and started off down the road. 

“Hi yi!” shouted Farmer Clovertop. “The fox 
is gone. Run after him! Run after him!” 

“Squawk! Squawk!” screamed Little Red 
Hen. “Don’t let him get away!” 

They all started running after Sly Fox, but they 
might as well have tried to catch the wind. Hav¬ 
ing been in prison once, Sly Fox had no intention 
of being in prison a second time. He ran and ran 
until he was so far away that no one ever saw him 
again and no one ever knew what had become of 
him. He did not go back to live in his old den, for 



SLY FOX 


69 


he knew that Little Red Hen would tell Farmer 
Clovertop where it was, and Farmer Clovertop 
would surely catch him in it some time. He and 
Sly Vixen moved to an entirely different part of 
the country. Here they were not so well known 
and could play their old tricks until they were 
found out again. But Little Red Hen did not care 
where they went so long as they left her in peace. 

“I’ve learned one thing though,” she often re¬ 
marked, when she told about the clever trick that 
Sly Fox had tried to play on her, “and that is that 
you must not trust a rascal even when he is polite.” 



HUNGRY WOLF 


i * \T0 W me > Towzer, what would you do if 

i you were walking in the woods and sud¬ 
denly in front of you in the path, you should see a 
huge, fierce wolf who wanted to eat you?” 

It was Little Red Hen who asked this question. 
Towzer did not seem to find it an easy question to 
answer. First he shut one eye, as though he was 
considering it. Then lie yawned, which appar¬ 
ently meant that he did not think it worth con¬ 
sidering. 

“Pshaw! What’s this you are talking about?” 
his yawn seemed to say. “I don’t think much of 
wolves. I eat wolves for breakfast every morn- 
mg. 

Rut Towzer was not really as sure about wolves 
as he seemed to be. He knew that Little Red Hen 
had kept her head very well when she met Hun¬ 
gry Wolf in the woods, and Towzer was just a 
little envious. 

The truth is that Towzer was getting so old and 
fat and lazy that he never left the kitchen porch 
any more. He lay there and slept the whole day 
long'. He woke up when Good Cook brought him 
his dinner of bones and scraps of meat and cold 

70 


HUNGRY WOLF 


71 


potatoes, and when he had finished it, he went to 
sleep again. This was a safe, comfortable kind 
of life. And as long as he stayed on the kitchen 
porch, Towzer knew that he would meet with no 
wolves or any other adventures. 

Though she was a timid little creature, Little 
Red Hen simply could not be tied down to such a 
monotonous life as that which Towzer led. She 
liked the kitchen porch, too, but now and then she 
felt that she just had to wander off in search of 
adventure. 

The adventure I am now telling about; hap¬ 
pened at one of these times. Little Red Hen had 
started out just for a little stroll in the garden. At 
the end of the garden, however, she discovered a 
hole in the fence that she had not noticed before. 

“How in the world did this hole get there?” she 
asked herself. “And where does it lead, I wonder? 
Well, there’s only one w T ay of finding out, and 
that is by trying.” 

So Little Red Hen squeezed through the hole 
and through some bushes on the other side. She 
found then that she was at the edge of Farmer 
Clovertop’s hay field. The hay had been cut, and 
it was pleasant to walk about in the field, with no 
tall grass to get in your way. 

Little Red Hen then wandered here and there 
until finally she came to the lower end of the field 
where there was a fence. On the other side of the 



72 


THE KITCHEN PORCH 


fence lay the big woods. Little Red Hen had not 
often been in the big woods. Even the children 
did not go there, unless someone was with them, 
because the big woods were really quite far from 
the house. 

“But now that I’m here,” said Little Red Hen, 
“I think I may as well go on into the woods. I’m 
sure it will be cool and shady there.” 

It was indeed very pleasant in the woods. The 
dry leaves made a cheerful rustling sound when 
Little Red Hen scratched around among them. In 
the moist earth beneath the leaves she found now 
and then a bug or a worm which she ate with great 
enjoyment. These bugs and worms were so tender 
and juicy and of such a delicate flavor, quite differ¬ 
ent from the bugs and worms that one found in 
the fields or by the roadside. There were all sorts 
of amusing plants in the woods, too, jack-in-the- 
pulpits, ginger root, and funguses and mushrooms 
and toad stools of many shapes and colors. 

Without noticing where she was going, Little 
Red Hen wandered about in the woods until sud¬ 
denly she found herself in the midst of the thickest 
part of them. 

“I’d better be getting out of here,” she said to 
herself, “or before I know it, I’ll be lost.” 

She was just about to turn to go back, when 
suddenly from behind a big tree, out popped Hun¬ 
gry Wolf! What a terrible looking creature he 



HUNGRY WOLF 


73 


was! His eyes were as red as coals. His long 
limber tongue was hanging out of his mouth. He 
was so close to her that Little Red Hen could feel 
his hot breath in her face. And his sharp white 
teeth shone and glistened even in the dim light 
of the forest. 

“Goodness!’’ exclaimed Little Red Hen. “How 
you startled me! You came out so suddenly from 
behind that tree, Hungry Wolf!” 

“I’m sorry to have startled you, Little Red Hen,” 
apologized Hungry Wolf. “But the truth is, I 
am in something of a hurry. You know, I intend 
to eat you up. Woof! Woof!” 

“Well, I’d like to know why you pick on me,” 
said Little Red Hen, “if you want somebody to 
eat. Why don’t you try somebody your own size?” 

“I’ve been looking for more than an hour,” an¬ 
swered Hungry Wolf, “and you are the first mouth¬ 
ful I’ve come across—if you are a mouthful. 
Every little helps, however, and if I eat you, I 
certainly can’t be quite as hungry as I was before.” 

“Perhaps not,” acknowledged Little Red Hen. 
“And if you really are so hungry, I feel I ought 
to do something to help you out. Anything to 
oblige a friend, you know. But there is one thing 
I think I ought to tell you. It’s just possible you 
may not find me as comforting after you have 
eaten me as you think you will. Because you know 
there are the pin feathers. I don’t mean to com- 




74 


THE KITCHEN PORCH 


plain, but you came upon me so suddenly that my 
feathers are all standing on end. See how ruffled 
they look. Then there are a lot of little feathers 
underneath that you can’t see. Those are the pin 
feathers I spoke about. They are all standing on 
end, too. In fact I fear if you swallowed me, you 
would find me about as prickly as a porcupine. 
I don’t believe you would be very happy with all 
these sharp pin feathers of mine pricking you all 
over the stomach.” 

“There may be something in that,” said Hungry 
Wolf, thoughtfully. 

“Of course it’s all the same to me,” continued 
Little Red Hen. “If I have to be eaten, it doesn’t 
make the slightest difference to me whether I am 
eaten with my pin feathers sticking up or lying 
down. I only mention it for your sake. I hate 
to cause unnecessary suffering.” 

“Perhaps the feathers will go down in a few 
minutes,” suggested Hungry Wolf hopefully. 

“I doubt it,” answered Little Red Hen, “I 
don’t see how they can go down as long as I am in 
this nervous condition. And it is the sight of your 
sharp teeth that makes me so nervous.” 

“Well, in that case,” said Hungry Wolf, “it 
looks to me as though I should have to eat you, pin 
feathers or no pin feathers. I will just have to run 
the risk.” 

“Wait a minute, wait a minute!” exclaimed 



HUNGRY WOLF 


75 


Little Red Hen hastily. “Another idea occurs to 
me.” 

“Well, let us have it,” said Hungry Wolf. “But 
be quick, because I’m getting hungrier and hun¬ 
grier every minute.” 

“My plan is very simple,” said Little Red Hen, 
“but I think it will work. I don’t want you to 
swallow me down and then afterwards feel as 
though you had swallowed a horse-radish grater. 
You must do something to smoothe me down a 
little first, and what I suggest is that you spread 
me over with butter before you swallow me. I’ll 
go down then as slick as a whistle, and you will 
never know that you have eaten me.” 

“Excellent! Excellent!” cried Hungry Wolf 
admiringly. “You certainly do have ideas, Little 
Red Hen, and I only wish I had a head as good 
as yours. But there’s only one thing occurs to me. 
Where am I to get the butter?” 

“Where are you to get the butter!” exclaimed 
Little Red Hen. “Why worry about a little 
butter? There is any amount of butter to be had. 
Everybody always has a little butter.” 

“Well, there may be any amount of butter where 
you live,” said Hungry Wolf, “but not where I 
live. I’ve travelled about in these woods, man and 
boy, for a good many moons, but I never have 
seen any butter in them.” 

“It hadn’t occurred to me before,” replied Little 



76 


THE KITCHEN PORCH 


Red Hen, “but what you say may be true. The 
fact is I know very little about the woods. If I 
had known more, I would not be here now. And 
I must confess that I haven’t seen any butter dur¬ 
ing my walk today in the woods.” 

“Do you know where we can get some butter, 
Little Red Hen?” asked Hungry Wolf. 

“Well, I don’t know but I do,” answered Little 
Red Hen. “At the house, they always have butter. 
Good Cook is one of my best friends, and I’m 
sure I could get some butter from her. We won’t 
need much—about a cupful will do. And I’m sure 
she must have some. They use an awful lot of 
butter at the house. Almost every day I hear 
Good Cook say to the grocer’s boy, 'Bring me a 
pound of butter, and see to it that it’s sweet and 
fresh.’ ” 

“What do they do with so much butter?” asked 
Hungry Wolf. 

“Oh, they use it on various things,” answered 
Little Red Hen. “Everybody uses it.” 

“It must be very fashionable,” remarked Hun¬ 
gry Wolf. 

“Butter fashionable!” cried Little Red Hen. 
“I’ll say it is! There isn’t anything more fash¬ 
ionable. Why, it is used in all the best families. 
They wouldn’t know what to do without it. And 
I’ll tell you something else, Hungry Wolf. It’s 
not only fashionable, but it’s good too. They use 




HUNGRY WOLF 


77 


it on everything, on their bread and on their toast, 
and on their string beans and on their spinach and 
on their corn-on-the-cob, and on almost everything 
they eat. Everything is ten times better with 
butter on it than without butter on it. And on po¬ 
tatoes too. They put it on boiled potatoes, and on 
mashed potatoes, but the best of all is baked 
potatoes with plenty of butter and salt and 
pepper on them. Don’t you think so, Hungry 
Wolf?” 

“That’s right, that’s right!” agreed Hungry 
Wolf. “It takes butter to make a baked potato 
any good. If you haven’t got butter to put on it, 
a baked potato isn’t worth anything.” 

Now Hungry Wolf had never seen a baked po¬ 
tato in all his life, but he was not going to let Little 
Red Hen know that all these fine foods she spoke 
of had never tickled his palate. He could imagine 
how good a baked potato with plenty of butter on 
it would taste. It sounded so good he knew it 
must be good. And if a baked potato was good, 
how much better would a plump Little Red Hen 
be with a nice thick coat of butter spread on her to 
smooth the ruffled feathers and to make her slide 
down easily. 

“Oh, dear Little Red Hen,” begged Hungry 
Wolf, “I do wish you would go and ask Good 
Cook for a cupful of butter. You won’t need to 
say it is for me. I’m not sure Good Cook approves 



78 


THE KITCHEN PORCH 


of me. You can say you want it for a sick friend.’’ 

“Well, anything to oblige,” said Little Red Hen. 
“I feel quite sure Good Cook will let me have it 
for the asking. I won’t need to tell any fibs about 
it. You wait and I will be back with the butter in 
two shakes of a lamb’s tail.” 

“All right,” answered Hungry Wolf. “But do 
hurry back. What you have just told me has made 
me hungrier than ever. I’ll wait for you here at 
the edge of the woods.” 

Little Red Hen started off in great haste, as 
though she were going back to the house to get the 
butter with which Hungry Wolf was to butter her 
before he ate her. After she had reached the fence, 
however, between the field and the woods, she went 
more slowly. She knew that she was now safe. 
Hungry Wolf would never come out into the open 
field, for if he did, he would surely be seen by 
Farmer Clovertop, or some of his men, who would 
be only too glad to shoot him and kill him if they 
had a chance. Little Red Hen amused herself 
very pleasantly for an hour or so in the field. She 
hunted grasshoppers and flies and bugs, she 
scratched in the warm dry earth and she treated 
herself to a long sunny dust bath. 

When she thought that Hungry Wolf must be 
good and tired of waiting, Little Red Hen came 
back to the fence at the edge of the field. She 
flew up on the topmost bar, and looking across into 



HUNGRY WOLF 


79 


the woods, she saw there Hungry Wolf, still pa¬ 
tiently waiting. 

“Hello there, Hungry Wolf!” she shouted. “I 
think you might as well go along home. There 
isn’t going to be any butter, and you won’t need 
any, because I’m not coming back. Did you really 
think I was silly enough to get the butter with 
which I was to be eaten? Oh greedy, greedy. 
Hungry Wolf!” 



Hungry Wolf was so ashamed of himself for 
having been so stupid and so easily fooled by Little 
Red Hen that he slunk off into the woods without 
saying a word. 

As it was almost supper time, Little Red Hen 
then hastened back home. She was all in a flutter 
of excitement over the happenings of the day when 
she reached the kitchen porch. It was an interest¬ 
ing story she had to tell, and she told it to every¬ 
body who would listen. She was quite the hero 
















so 


THE KITCHEN PORCH 


of the day, and all said that she had done a brave 
and clever thing. Indeed, Little Red Hen was 
quite proud of herself for a while. It is not every 
person who can escape uninjured from the very] 
jaws, as it were, of a cruel and famishing wolf. 

“Well, I’ve learned one thing from my experi¬ 
ence with Hungry Wolf,” said Little Red Hen. 
“And that is, when you are in a tight place, it is 
better to trust to your head than to your strong 
right arm—especially if you haven’t any strong 
right arm.” 




RICE PUDDING 



LTOGETHER this has been a very unfor- 


£ jL tunate morning,” said Little Red Hen. 
“I don’t know when I have had such an unhappy 
experience.” 

Little Red Hen was off by herself at the very 
end of the yard. She was as far away from the 
house as she could get. She was talking to her¬ 
self, which was what she always did when there was 
no one else at hand to talk to. It will be necessary 
to begin at the beginning, however, to make quite 
clear what this unhappy experience was. 

It happened on a Sunday morning. As soon 
as Little Red Hen woke up and flew down from 
her perch in the hen house, she knew it was Sun¬ 
day morning. How she knew I can’t quite tell. 
She had no calendar to look at, and I don’t believe 
she knew the names of the days of the week any¬ 
way. Perhaps you may think she knew this day 
was Sunday because she heard the church bells ring¬ 
ing. But it couldn’t have been that, because she 
knew it was Sunday long before the church bells 
began to ring. Probably the real reason she knew 
it was Sunday was because everything was so 
quiet. All the world seemed still to be asleep when 


81 


82 


THE KITCHEN PORCH 


Little Red Hen woke up, and what is more, it 
seemed to keep on sleeping long after the time 
when people were ordinarily busy with their daily 
occupations. 

There was another reason why Little Red Hen 
may have guessed that this day was Sunday. She 
got her breakfast of shelled corn and cracked wheat 
much later on this day than usual. It made her 
just the least bit cross to have to wait so long for 
her breakfast. That was the beginning of the un¬ 
happy experiences of this morning. The belated 
breakfast was a trifle, however, and worse was to 
follow. 

They say all things come to those who wait, and 
finally Little Red Hen really did have breakfast. 
The world was beginning to wake up, too. The 
milk man’s wagon came rattling down the street, 
and all around one could hear doors being opened 
and shut in the houses, and much bustle going on 
in the kitchens where breakfasts were being pre¬ 
pared. Little Red Hen liked this better than the 
quiet. For Little Red Hen was a very sociable 
sort of person. She liked to be in the midst of 
things, where she could hear and see what was 
going on. 

“I think I’ll go up to the porch,” she said after 
she had eaten her share of corn and wheat in the 
chicken yard. “The family ought to be up by 
this time.” 



RICE PUDDING 


83 


Sure enough, the family were up, and they were 
all having their breakfast in the dining-room. 
Their voices floated out through the window to the 
porch. 

‘'Everybody seems to be quite cheerful this 
morning,” remarked Little Red Hen to Towzer. 

Everybody may have been so, but Towzer him¬ 
self at that moment was not cheerful. He had 
not yet had any breakfast and that made him dread¬ 
fully sullen. He had not even said “Good morn¬ 
ing” to Little Red Hen when she hopped up on the 
porch, and he paid not the slightest attention to 
her other remarks. 

Within the house Little Red Hen and Towzer 
could hear Good Cook scurrying back and forth 
between the kitchen and the dining-room. She was 
busy as could be, carrying bowls of porridge and 
plates of hot pancakes and cups of coffee and 
glasses of milk, and all the other things the hungry 
breakfasters wanted. Finally, however, all the 
family finished their breakfasts. As it was Sun¬ 
day morning and they had nothing else to do, they 
set out for walks or for church or for anything else 
they felt like doing. 

The house grew quieter now. Good Cook had 
time to bring breakfast out to Towzer. 

“Better late than never,” suggested Little Red 
Hen cheerfully, as Towzer’s breakfast was placed 
before him. But Towzer was too hungry to be 



84 


THE KITCHEN PORCH 


cheerful and he gobbled up his breakfast in a trice 
—whatever that may be. He gobbled it up so 
thoroughly there were only a few small crumbs 
left for Little Red Hen. Even these would not 
have been left, except that they had fallen in the 
cracks between the boards on the porch where Tow- 
zer could not reach them. Such as they were, Lit¬ 
tle Red Hen managed to pick them out with her 
little sharp beak. 

Breakfast over, Towzer settled down to his usual 
after-meal nap, and Little Red Hen settled down 
to a period of hopeful waiting. 

It was then that Good Cook brought out a line 
large rice pudding that she had made for dinner 
and set it on a bench on the porch to cool. She 
knew it would be perfectly safe there, for Little 
Red Hen and Towzer would never think of touch¬ 
ing anything that did not belong to them. 

Good Cook went back into the kitchen and began 
washing the breakfast dishes. 

If you think now that Little Red Hen and Tow¬ 
zer forgot their good habits and were going to 
meddle with the rice pudding, you are very much 
mistaken. No such notion entered their minds. 
In fact, as soon as Good Cook had put the rice 
pudding down, they forgot all about it. 

Good Cook forgot all about it too. She went 
on washing her dishes, making a great clatter and 




RICE PUDDING 


85 


jingling of pots and pans and knives and forks 
and spoons. Good Cook was in quite a cheery 
mood and sang a song as she washed her dishes. 
When other people sang, it always made Little 
Red Hen want to sing, too. So now and then she 
joined in with Good Cook. Her song was not 
very beautiful, being just “Ka-ka-ka-ka-koo! Ka- 
ka-ka-ka-koo!” But it showed that she meant well 
and that her heart was in the right place. You 
might suppose that this loud singing would wake up 
Towzer. But it did not. The more singing, the 
sounder he slept. Towzer did not have a musical 
ear, and thought that sleeping was the best way 
to get through with it. 

Now all this singing attracted a third visitor to 
the back kitchen porch. This was Billy Goat. 
The truth is that Billy Goat was supposed to be 
shut up in his own particular place in the barn. 
Billy Goat belonged to the children, and the rule 
was, that whenever the children were not there to 
keep an eye on him, Billy Goat should be shut up in 
his pen. For Billy Goat had a bad habit of getting 
into mischief and of wandering away. There was 
still something wild in his nature that would not 
be tamed. He liked to scramble about among 
rocks and in rough places, and nothing ever fright¬ 
ened him. Today, however, all the children had 
gone off to Sunday school or to church, or I don’t 



86 


THE KITCHEN PORCH 


know where, and had completely forgotten about 
Billy Goat. That was why he had not been shut 

up. 

Being left alone, Billy Goat had to amuse him¬ 
self. He was able to do this very well. First he 
had gone off investigating all the alleys and back¬ 
yards in the neighborhood. But apparently in¬ 
teresting experiences were not easy to find on this 
quiet Sunday morning. Billy Goat had come back 
home again, feeling a little bored. He did not 
usually pay much attention to Little Red Hen, 
or to Towzer either, but having nothing else on 
hand, he decided now to go up to the porch and 
see what they were doing. 

But Billy Goat found the back kitchen porch as 
dull as all the other places he had visited this Sun¬ 
day morning. Towzer was still asleep, and Little 
Red Hen would do nothing but sing her endless 
song. Billy Goat began to look around to see if 
there might by any chance be any other objects of 
interest on the back kitchen porch. In a moment 
his eye had fallen on Good Cook’s beautiful rice 
pudding. He examined it carefully and then came 
up and smelled it carefully. 

“How good that smells!” he said, wrinkling up 
his nose. “I wonder if it tastes as good as it 
smells?” 

Now Billy Goat knew perfectly well that rice 
puddings sitting on benches on back kitchen porches 



RICE PUDDING 


87 


to cool were not intended for Billy Goats to eat. 
But I think I told you that there was something 
wild and untamed in Billy Goat’s nature. lie 
often did things that he knew he ought not to do, 
merely because he felt like doing them. 

And so now Billy Goat began to eat the rice 
pudding. He did not eat it greedily, but he ate 
very steadily. The first mouthful tasted good, 
and every mouthful after the first, tasted better and 



better. He began at the middle and ate all over 
the top to the edge. Then he began again at the 
middle and ate off another layer to the edge. By 
this time the rice pudding was half gone, but Billy 
Goat had not had nearly half enough. 

Little Red Hen saw what Billy Goat was doing, 
but she was so horrified she could not say a word. 
She stopped her singing, but just stood gazing in 
silent wonder at the wickedness of Billy Goat eat¬ 
ing the rice pudding. 





88 


THE KITCHEN PORCH 


Towzer was still sleeping, and in the kitchen 
Good Cook was still singing her song and was busy 
preparing the Sunday dinner for the family. 

But Billy Goat simply kept on eating. He ate a 
third layer off the rice pudding, and then a fourth. 
By that time he had reached the bottom of the 
pan. Then he began all over again at the top, 

nibbling off all the little pieces of crust that had 
stuck to the sides of the pan. The rice pudding 

was so good that Billy Goat could not bear to leave 
a tiny scrap of it. He ate it up to the very last 
grain of rice. Then he began to lick the inside 
of the pan. He licked it so clean that Good Cook 
would not need to wash it. But he licked it so 
hard, also, that an accident happened. He knocked 
the pan off the bench, and it fell to the floor with a 
great clatter. It rolled over the floor of the porch, 
fell down the stone steps, and then slid half way 
down the cement sidewalk. What a racket it 
made! Towzer woke up with a start. Good Cook 
stopped her singing in the kitchen. She ran to the 
kitchen door, picking up a broom for a weapon, 
as she came along. 

One glance outside showed her what had hap¬ 
pened. 

“Oh, my nice rice pudding!” she exclaimed. 
“You wretched creatures, what have you done with 
my rice pudding?” 

Then she laid on right and left with her broom. 




Then she laid on 
broom. 


right and left 'with her 


















RICE PUDDING 


89 


She struck first at Billy Goat, because she sus¬ 
pected he had done the mischief. But Billy Goat 
was as quick and nimble-footed as a chamois. He 
leaped like a flash over the flower bed to a safe dis¬ 
tance on the lawn. Then Good Cook made a 
sweeping stroke at Little Red Hen with her broom, 
but Little Red Hen flew up in the air and escaped. 
Towzer was the only one left, and everything had 
happened so suddenly, that he was as yet only half 
awake. Good Cook gave him a stinging blow with 
the handle of her broom, and away he went howl¬ 
ing down the cement walk. 

Of course, Towzer was innocent. He had done 
no harm, and he did not even know the rice pudding 
had been eaten. But Good Cook was in no mood 
to separate the innocent from the guilty. She was 
angry. She was as mad as a hornet. She felt 
she had to punish somebody for the loss of her 
pudding, and Towzer was the only one she could 
reach. She knew Billy Goat could run much faster 
than she could, and so she made no attempt to pur¬ 
sue him. She only stood on the porch and talked 
to him. 

“Oh, you miserable goat!” she exclaimed. “If 
I once get hold of you, I’ll give you a bang over 
the caboozle that will land you in the middle of 
next week!” 

“Oh, dear, dear!” said Little Red Hen. “What 
very rough talk! It’s too bad that the rice pudding 



90 


THE KITCHEN PORCH 


has been eaten, but I don’t think Good Cook should 
use such dreadful language.” 

But Billy Goat did not mind Good Cook’s rough 
language. Perhaps he knew that Good Cook’s 
bark was worse than her bite, that she said a good 
deal more than she meant. 

Nevertheless Billy Goat made up his mind to 
take special good care that Good Cook did not get 
hold of him. He knew, too, that hard words 
break no bones, and that Good Cook could not take 
the rice pudding he had eaten away from him by 
any amount of scolding. All he did, therefore, was 
to stamp his right foot defiantly and stare back at 
Good Cook, as much as to say, “I dare you to come 
down here.” 

Good Cook, however, was not inclined to take 
the dare. She was too busy to waste any more 
time, because now she had to make another dessert 
for dinner. 

“Get out!” she shouted. “You miserable four- 
legged animals! If I catch any of you on my 
kitchen porch again, somebody is going to suffer 
for it.” 

“Well, that lets me out,” said Little Red Hen, 
as Good Cook went back into the kitchen. “I 
don’t know whether I am an animal or not, but I 
know I haven’t four legs.” 

“It doesn’t let me out,” said Billy Goat. “But 



RICE PUDDING 


91 


I don’t mind. I intend to go on the porch when¬ 
ever I want to.” 

But Billy Goat apparently decided that it would 
be wise not to want to go on the porch for the 
present. He wandered off, seeking adventure 
elsewhere. And Little Red Hen also thought it 
best to withdraw to a safe distance for a time. 

That was why I said at the beginning of this 
story that Little Red Hen was off by herself at 
the very end of the yard, the end farthest from the 
house. She thought that would be the safest place 
to be in. 

And now you know, too, what some of the un¬ 
happy experiences of this Sunday were for Little 
Red Hen. But Little Red Hen never remained 
unhappy very long. Her clouds always had silver 
linings. She began to see that she might learn 
something useful from these various mishaps. 

“Well, well,” she said wisely, “this has taught 
me one thing, and that is, if you want to be taken 
for innocent you must be careful not to be seen in 
the company of the guilty.” 



T. TURTLE SLOWBOY 


TURTLE SLOWBOY was an old friend 



of Little Red Hen’s. When I say old, I 


mean really old. Exactly how old he was, even T. 
Turtle Slowboy did not know. But he knew he 
was very old. 

“Yes, I belong to a very old family,” he would 
say to Little Red Hen. “It’s nothing for mem¬ 
bers of our family to live to be a hundred years 
old. We are not only a very old but also an exclu¬ 
sive family. We never have much to do with other 
people, and that is what makes us so aristocratic.” 

“What a big word!” said Little Red Hen. “I 
never heard it before. What does aristocratic 
mean?” 

“Oh, I suppose it means a number of things,” 
answered T. Turtle Slowboy. “But to me it means 
mostly how you feel. If you feel that you are so 
much better than other people that you can turn 
your nose up at them and have nothing to do with 
them, then you are quite aristocratic—at least you 
feel aristocratic.” 

“If one doesn’t have anything to do with other 
people, will that make one aristocratic?” asked Lit¬ 
tle Red Hen. 


92 


T. TURTLE SLOWBOY 


93 


“Well, partly that,” said T. Turtle Slowboy. 
“But you must also belong to an old family, like 
mine.” 

“I’m afraid I can’t be aristocratic, then,” said 
Little Red Hen. “Because I like to have a lot 
to do with other people and I don’t belong to an 
old family. At least, I suppose I don’t, though I 
really don’t know. I never happened to think 
about it before.” 



“Oh, but if you really belonged to an old family 
you would have thought about it,” remarked T. 
Turtle Slowboy. “However, I shouldn’t worry 
over it if I were you. I don’t blame you for it. 
You can’t help it. And of course everybody can’t 
be aristocratic. If they were, there wouldn’t be 
any point in being aristocratic at all.” 

“But don’t you have to do anything to be aristo¬ 
cratic?” asked Little Red Hen. 

“Do anything!” exclaimed T. Turtle Slowboy 
in a horrified tone. “Of course you don’t have to 
do anything! You can’t. It isn’t aristocratic 
to do anything. Why, members of my family have 
lived to be a hundred years and never done a single 
thing. Do anything indeed! You don’t do any- 






94 


THE KITCHEN PORCH 


thing to be aristocratic. You just are aristocratic.” 

“It’s all very puzzling,” said Little Red Hen, 
“but as you say, it isn’t worth worrying about. 
Because if you are aristocratic, you are, and if 
you aren’t, you can’t be. But there is another 
thing I would like to know, T. Turtle Slowboy, 
and that is, what is the T. for in your name? I 
should think it would be just Turtle Slowboy, not 
T. Turtle Slowboy.” 

“Oh, but T. Turtle Slowboy is so much more 
aristocratic!” declared T. Turtle Slowboy. “Don’t 
you think that sounds fine—T. Turtle Slowboy? 
Much better than plain Turtle Slowboy, though 
that is really my name. The T. doesn’t stand for 
anything except to make it sound better. T. Tur¬ 
tle Slowboy—it looks well, too, don’t you think, 
when it is written out or printed? I thought of 
it myself, and I put the T. in T. Turtle Slow¬ 
boy.” 


“I didn’t know one could do that,” exclaimed 
Little Red Hen. “I thought people’s names were 
given to them and they had to take what they got.” 

“Most people do,” said T. Turtle Slowboy, “but 
aristocratic names aren’t the same as common or¬ 
dinary names. You know, kings sometimes have 
eight or ten or a dozen different names. A king 
can call himself anything he wants to.” 

“Well, it may be so,” replied Little Red Hen, 
“but I can’t say, because I don’t really know any 






T. TURTLE SLOWBOY 


95 


kings. I think most of the people I know must 
be common ordinary people.” 

To this last remark of Little Red Hen’s, T. 
Turtle Slowboy did not condescend to make any 
reply. He probably thought it was beneath his 
dignity to continue talking with so humble a crea¬ 
ture as Little Red Hen. He therefore drew his 
head within his shell, and all his legs and his tail. 
Little Red Hen then took this as a hint that the 
interview was over. She was not sorry. The 
truth is that she found T. Turtle Slowboy rather 
tiresome. 

“No doubt he is a very excellent and aristocratic 
person,” said Little Red Hen to herself, as she 
wandered off, “but I must say, a little of T. Tur¬ 
tle Slowboy goes a long way. He comes pretty 
near to being an insufferable snob.” 

You might not think it of so grand a person as 
T. Turtle Slowboy, but it cannot be denied that 
T. Turtle Slowboy lived in a mud puddle. It was 
not even a big mud puddle. It was not big enough 
to be called a pond. The children often went to 
this mud puddle to catch pollywogs. They knew 
that T. Turtle Slowboy lived there, too, but they 
never bothered him. They did not think he was 
interesting. He never turned into anything, the 
way pollywogs did, and he couldn’t even run away 
if you tried to catch him. There was no fun in 
catching anything as easy to catch as T. Turtle 



96 


THE KITCHEN PORCH 


Slowboy, and there was no fun after you caught 
him. He simply withdrew into his shell and stayed 
there, and for all the good he was to anybody, he 
might as well have been a stick of wood. 

A week or two after Little Red Hen’s talk with 
T. Turtle Slowboy, she happened again to visit 
the mud puddle in which T. Turtle Slowboy lived. 
She found him sunning himself on a stone at the 
edge of the puddle. In spite of the sunny weather, 
however, T. Turtle Slowboy seemed not to he in 
a cheerful mood. He looked as though he were 
very much depressed. 

“Dearme, T. Turtle Slowboy!” exclaimed Little 
Red Hen. “You look as glum as an oyster. What 
is the matter?” 

“Matter enough, Little Red Hen,” replied T. 
Turtle Slowboy with a sigh. “I’ve just about 
made up my mind that I must leave this lake.” 

It was only a mud puddle, hut T. Turtle Slow¬ 
boy called it a lake because he lived in it. 

“Why, what’s the matter with it?” asked Little 
Red Hen. “You’ve lived here a long, long time. 
You ought to he used to it.” 

“The truth is, Little Red Hen,” said T. Turtle 
Slowboy, “that this lake isn’t large enough for me 
any more. And then, it is becoming so common. 
It’s simply overrun with pollywogs and frogs. 
And I shouldn’t be surprised to see it dry up some 



T. TURTLE SLOWBOY 


97 


day, too. It isn’t nearly as large as it was when 
I was young some four score years ago. I think 
there must be a crack in the bottom of it which lets 
the water run out.” 

“Well, if you feel so badly about it,” said Little 
Red Hen, “why don’t you move away to some other 
pond?” 

“That’s just the point,” said T. Turtle Slowboy. 
“I don’t know how to move away. I never have 
done anything but stay right here and I don’t know 
how to do anything else.” 

“I know where there is a fine big pond,” said 
Little Red Hen. “You go across Farmer Clover- 
top’s hayfield to the other side of the hill to get 
to it. Of course it is pretty far, but it’s nice after 
you get there.” 

“But I can’t get there,” complained T. Turtle 
Slowboy. “It would take me a month of Sundays 
to crawl there, and then I wouldn’t get there, be¬ 
cause I would surely be lost on the way. If you 
can’t help me, I shall simply have to stay here until 
the water all dries up and then that will be the end 
of me. Because, you know, I can’t live without 
water.” 

“What a sad fate to look forward to!” exclaimed 
Little Red Hen sympathetically. 

“It is indeed sad,” agreed T. Turtle Slowboy, 
with tears in his eyes. 



98 


THE KITCHEN PORCH 


“But I think something can be done to prevent 
it,” added Little Red Hen. “Indeed something 
must be done. The question is, What?” 

“That is just the question,” said T. Turtle Slow¬ 
boy. “If we only knew what was to be done, you 
could do it.” 

“One plan occurs to me,” added Little Red Hen, 
after she had thought for a minute or two. “I 
think it will work. The only difficulty is that you 
will have to help. You will have to do something.” 

“Oh, please don’t ask me to do anything hard!” 
begged T. Turtle Slowboy. 

“It isn’t hard,” answered Little Red Hen, “and 
you won’t have to think. I will tell you what to do, 
and if you do just as I say, I’ll see to it that you 
reach the big pond on the other side of the hill.” 

“Well, if I don’t have to think, perhaps I can 
do it,” agreed T. Turtle Slowboy sadly. “But I 
don’t know. Pferhaps I'd better stay right 
here. I’m not used to these rapid changes.” 

“Tut, tut!” exclaimed Little Red Hen impa¬ 
tiently. “But you can’t stay here. Pretty soon 
there won’t be any water here for you to stay in. 
You just wait until I come back and we will have 
you moved out of here in no time. I can see very 
well that it’s impossible to be aristocratic in a mud 
puddle like this. I think you are right in wanting 
to move to a decent sized pond. Keep a stiff upper 
lip and I will be back soon.” 




T. TURTLE SLOWBOY 


99 


Little Red Hen hastened away to the house and 
to the garden to find help in carrying out her plan. 
The persons she was looking for were Laughing- 
Scolding Blue jay and Scolding-Laughing Blue jay. 
They lived mostly in the garden and one could hear 
them there almost any time of the day. They were 
probably twins, because they looked so much alike 
that Little Red Hen could not tell them apart. 
And they had to have double names, because when 
one was laughing, the other was scolding, and when 
the other was scolding, then the first one was laugh¬ 
ing, and you could never tell which was which. 
They were a very saucy pair, these two blue jays. 
They made fun of everything, and even when they 
were scolding, they were laughing. But Little 
Red Hen and Laughing-Scolding and Scolding- 
Laughing were very good friends. They liked 
Little Red Hen because she was so good-natured 
and did not put on airs. Besides Little Red Hen 
let them come down and pick up grains of corn and 
cracked wheat when she was having her breakfast. 
They had the reputation of being thievish and quar¬ 
relsome, but as Little Red Hen said, if you treated 
them well, they treated you well. 

When Little Red Hen had explained her plan 
to the two blue jays, they almost exploded with 
laughter over it. 

“So old Hardshell wants to get out of his mud 
puddle, does he?” they said. “And has he found 



100 


THE KITCHEN PORCH 


out at last that his puddle isn’t the only paradise 
on earth? Of course we will help you, you fool¬ 
ish Little Red Hen. We will do anything you 
want us to do, for your sake, and it will be a sight 
worth seeing, too, when T. Turtle Slow T boy goes 
flying through the air.” 

“Well, come along then,” said Little Red Hen. 
“T. Turtle Slowboy is waiting and we might as 
well get him over at once.” 

They all three hastened to the mud puddle, and 
there they found T. Turtle Slowboy still sunning 
himself on his stone. On the way, Little Red Hen 
had picked up a long straight stick which she took 
back with her. 

“Now, T. Turtle Slowboy,” she explained, “I 
will tell you just what to do. I want you to take 
hold of the middle of this stick with your mouth 
and to hold fast. You won’t have anything else 
to do but hold fast. Then Laughing-Scolding will 
take hold of one end of the stick with his beak and 
Scolding-Laughing of the other end. They will 
fly up in the air and carry you over the hill to the 
other pond. It’s as easy as falling off a log. 
There’s only one thing to be careful about, and that 
is, you must hold fast. Hold fast!” 

“Oh, I can hold fast all right,” said T. Turtle 
Slowboy. “Holding fast is my strong point. But 
what I don’t know is whether this is really very 



T. TURTLE SLOWBOY 


101 


dignified. I don’t believe any of my family ever 
flew up in the air on a stick before.” 

“Well, now is your chance to become famous, 
T. Turtle, old fellow,” said Laughing-Scolding 
Bluejay. “You can go down in history as the first 
Slowboy to fly in the air. Perhaps after you start, 
all the Slowboys will follow your example.” 

“I trust not, I trust not,” remarked T. Turtle 
Slowboy, who thought that Laughing-Scolding 
Bluejay was inclined to be impudent and familiar. 
“We Slowboys don’t take up with every new¬ 
fangled notion that comes along.” 

“Just now it isn’t a question of new-fangled 
notions,” interrupted Little Red Hen impatiently. 
“It’s a question of getting out of this mud puddle 
into the pond.” 

“Quite so, Little Red Hen,” replied T. Turtle 
Slowboy with dignity. “I appreciate your kind¬ 
ness and that of your young friends here, and I 
assure you I am ready to start at once.” 

“All right, then,” said Little Red Hen. “Take 
hold of this stick, and remember what I say, Hold 
fast!” 

T. Turtle Slowboy seized the middle of the stick 
firmly in his jaws, and Laughing-Scolding and 
Scolding-Laughing took hold of the two ends. 

Up in the air they flew, up above the tops of the 
trees, and still higher and higher. They flew so 



102 


THE KITCHEN PORCH 


high that Little Red Hen had to hold her head 
hack to see them. There was no denying that T. 
Turtle Slowboy hanging to a flying stick was a 
comical sight. All the birds of the air flocked 
around to see him. The robins and the starlings 
laughed and joked at him, but the worst of all were 
the sparrows. 

“Tee-hee-hee, tee-hee-hee!” they tittered. “Did 
you ever see such a sight? What is it anyway? 
Is it a beetle, or what sort of a bug would you call 
it?” 

The sparrows knew perfectly well that T. Turtle 
Slowboy was not a beetle or a bug, but they thought 
it would annoy him to call him one. And it did. 
It annoyed him greatly. T. Turtle Slowboy was 
not very thin skinned, but if you wanted to hurt 
his feelings, the quickest way to do it was to pre¬ 
tend that you did not know that he was a person 
of very great importance. He felt that he could 
not let the insulting words of the sparrows pass 
unnoticed. In self-respect he decided that he must 
speak up and tell them a thing or two. What he 
wanted to say was, “You saucy, impudent sparrows, 
I would have you to know that I am not a bug or 
a beetle. I come from as good a family as you 
do, and I don’t doubt a great deal better.” 

That is what he wanted to say and what he 
started to say. But he did not have much chance 
to say anything. For when he opened his mouth 



T. TURTLE SLOWBOY 


103 


to speak lie let go of the stick, and as soon as he 
let go of the stick, he began to fall. He fell and 
fell, and the farther he fell, the faster he went. 
He thought he must have fallen miles before he 
reached the ground. But when he did reach the 
ground, he never thought at all any more. For 
he struck a great stone, and he struck it so hard 
that he was shattered to a thousand tiny pieces. 
He was completely broken up, and the pieces were 
so small, that no one was ever able to find a trace 
of him after he touched the ground. Not that any 
one looked very hard. It was a sad end for T. 
Turtle Slowboy, but he had had so little to do with 
other people while he lived in the aristocratic seclu¬ 
sion of his mud puddle that I don’t think he was 
much missed after his great fall. 

“Well, w r ell,” murmured Little Red Hen 
thoughtfully, as she wended her way homewards, 
“I see now that even a person who talks very little 
may talk sometimes too much. What counts, after 
all, is not whether you talk very much or don’t 
talk very much, but whether you know T how to keep 
your mouth shut at the right time.” 



HARD STONE 


NE warm summer day, Little Red Hen 



started out for a walk. She had not planned 
to go anywhere in particular, but was just ram¬ 
bling here and there. Thus it was that she hap¬ 
pened to meet with Sly Fox, who was also out for 
a little exercise and fresh air. 

“How do you do, Little Red Hen?” called out 
Sly Fox politely. “You seem to be out for a walk, 
as I am. Can’t I join you?” 

“Yes, indeed, Sly Fox,” answered Little Red 
Lien, who knew how to be as polite as anyone else. 
“I shall be glad to have some company on my walk.” 

“What do you think of my new coat, Little Red 
Hen?” asked Sly Fox, showing her a beautiful 
new fur coat that he had on. 

“It’s a lovely coat, so bright and red and glossy,” 
replied Little Red Hen. “But I should think you 
might find a heavy fur coat rather warm in this 
weather. I find the sun pretty hot without any 
coat.” 

“Well, I must confess,” said Sly Fox, “that it is 
a little warm. But I couldn’t bear to leave it at 
home. What’s the use of having a new fur coat, 
I said, if you can’t wear it? And that’s the reason 


104 


HARD STONE 


105 


why I went for a walk—I wanted to wear my new 
fur coat and show it off to admiring eyes. But 
I’m almost beginning to be sorry I wore it. I am 
so hot already that I am almost melted and run¬ 
ning away.” 

“Suppose we go over there and walk up the side 
of that mountain,” suggested Little Red Hen. 
“The mountain is covered with trees and I think 
it will be cool and shady there.” 

Sly Fox thought this would be a good plan, and 
the two started climbing up the mountain side. It 
was cooler there in the shade than it had been in 
the sunny open field. At least it was cooler at the 
start. As they climbed up the steep sides of the 
mountain, however, they found that the climb¬ 
ing made them even warmer than the sun had 
done. Little Red Hen did not mind it a great 
deal, but soon Sly Fox was dripping with per¬ 
spiration. 

“What a fool I am,” he complained, “to wear 
this fur coat on such a warm day! I can’t stand it 
any longer, and the fact is I never did need it, any¬ 
way. I was just wearing it for looks. But I 
don’t intend to be roasted to death just for looks. 
Don’t you want the coat, Little Red Hen?” 

“Don’t I want it!” echoed Little Red Hen, in 
astonishment. “Not if I know myself! I already 
have one coat of feathers which keeps me warm 
enough in winter and too warm in summer. Thank 




106 


THE KITCHEN PORCH 


you just the same, but I know when I’ve got 
enough.” 

“Well, then,” declared Sly Fox, “I’ll give it to 
Hard Stone here. He hasn’t anything to cover 
himself with, either in winter or summer.” 

Sly Fox spread the coat over Hard Stone, who 
seemed to be very glad to get it. 

No doubt it was disagreeable for Hard Stone to 
lie there with the hot sun beating down upon him 
all day long. And in the winter, when the cold 
rains came, and the snow and the hail fell upon him, 
it was still worse. Hard Stone was just the per¬ 
son to have the coat, and when Sly Fox had got it 
off his back and on Hard Stone, everybody seemed 
to be perfectly happy and satisfied. 

Sly Fox and Little Red Hen now continued 
their walk up the sides of the mountain, and all went 
well for a while. But pretty soon the weather be¬ 
gan to change. 

“It seems to me,” observed Little Red Hen, “it’s 
getting very dark.” 

“It seems to me, too, it’s getting rather dark,” 
answered Sly Fox. 

“It seemes to me, too, that I heard a sound like 
then remarked Little Red Hen. 

“It seems to me, too, that I heard a sound like 
thunder,” agreed Sly Fox. 

“It seems to me I felt a drop of rain,” said Little 
Red Hen. 



HARD STONE 


107 


“It seems to me I felt a drop of rain/’ added 
Sly Fox. 

But after that, it was no use seeming any more. 
There could not be the slightest doubt that it was 
raining. The sky was covered with great black 
clouds, the thunder rolled and rumbled, and the 
rain came down in sheets. Sly Fox and Little 
Red Hen hurried along as fast as they could, but 
they found nothing to shelter them from the driv¬ 
ing rain. They stood under a tree and for a time 
the leaves on the tree kept the rain off. Very soon, 
however, the leaves became dripping wet, and then 
the water began to trickle down on their heads 
and down the backs of their necks in little streams. 

“Well, we might as well stand right out in the 
rain,” declared Little Red Hen, “as under this 
sprinkling pot of a tree.” 

“I’m getting wet to the skin,” said Sly Fox. 
“And it doesn’t feel comfortable. I wish I had my 
coat now. That would keep the rain off. Would 
you mind running down to Hard Stone and ask¬ 
ing him for it, Little Red Hen? I would go my¬ 
self except that I don’t like to get too wet.” 

“I’m as wet now as I can be,” replied Little Red 
Hen, “so I don’t mind going. I’ll be back in a 
minute.” 

Little Red Hen hurried down the mountain side 
as fast as she could go, and when she reached Hard 
Stone she told him as politely as possible that Sly 



108 


THE KITCHEN PORCH 


Fox wanted his coat back. Politeness, however, 
made no impression upon Hard Stone. It took 
more than that to soften him. He did not believe 
in wasting words, and his reply to Little Red Hen 
was brief and to the point. 

“Can’t have it!” was all Hard Stone had to say, 
in the hardest and stoniest voice you can imagine. 

Little Red Hen went back to Sly Fox and re¬ 
ported that Hard Stone would not give up the coat. 

“Go back again,” commanded Sly Fox, “and tell 
him he must give me half of the coat. That will 
be enough to keep the rain off of me at least.” 

Rut Hard Stone had no more intention of giv¬ 
ing up half of the coat than of giving the whole of 
it. 

“Can’t have it! Can’t have one half inch of 
it!” he said most firmly, after Little Red Hen had 
delivered her message. 

When Little Red Hen had come back and had 
told Sly Fox that Hard Stone would not give up 
one half of the coat and not even one half inch of 
it, Sly Fox became exceedingly angry. 

“He won’t give me one half inch, won’t he!” ex¬ 
claimed Sly Fox. “Well, we’ll see about that! 
If he won’t give it to me, I shall have to take it.” 

Forgetting all about the rain, Sly Fox ran 
quickly down to Hard Stone, and without saying 
a word, he rudely snatched away the coat and put 
it on. 



HARD STONE 


109 


Hard Stone was so angry he could not speak. 
He was so angry he could not move. At best he 
was a slow sort of person, and it took him a long 
time to get started. There was no telling what he 
might have done if he had had time. But before 
he could gather himself together to do anything, 
Sly Fox had pulled off the coat and had joined 
Little Red Hen on the path down the side of the 
mountain. 

But if Hard Stone was slow to start he was also 
difficult to stop after he was started, as the end of 
this story will show. 

Now that he had his coat to cover him, Sly Fox 
was eager to continue with his walk. And as 
Little Red Hen was already as wet as she could 
be, she made no objections. But the rain was only 
a shower after all, and in a few minutes it was over. 
The sun came out and dried Little Red Hen’s 
feathers, and it also made Sly Fox very warm again 
beneath his new fur coat. He was determined, 
however, not to give the coat up a second time, 
even if he was hot. 

They had not walked far down the mountain 
side when Little Red Hen stopped and listened. 

“Seems to me I hear a strange noise up there!” 
she exclaimed. 

“Yes, it seems to me I hear a strange noise,” 
answered Sly Fox. 

“Seems to me it sounds like thunder,” continued 



110 


THE KITCHEN PORCH 


Little Red Hen, “but it can’t be thunder, because 
the rain is over.” 

“Yes, it seems to me it sounds like thunder,” 
agreed Sly Fox, “but it can’t be thunder.” 

“Seems to me it’s coming this way,” said Little 
Red Hen, looking up the steep hillside. 



Sure enough, there it was, rolling and rumbling 
and crashing and smashing down the side of the 
hill. It was Hard Stone. As soon as he saw 
Hard Stone, Sly Fox knew there was going to be 
trouble for him. 

“Oh, it’s Hard Stone,” he cried, “and he’s after 




HARD STONE 


111 


There was no doubt that Hard Stone was after 
Sly Fox. He came rolling straight towards him, 
crashing over bushes and stones and anything that 
lay in his path. He came so fast that Little Red 
Hen just had time enough to fly up in the air when 
Hard Stone rolled along beneath her in the path 
where she had just been standing. Sly Fox 
jumped behind a big tree where he thought he 
would be safe. But the tree did not stop Hard 
Stone. He crashed into it, Bang! and the tree 
was broken into forty thousand little splinters. 
Sly Fox began to run down the hill and Hard 
Stone kept on rolling after him. 

“I’ll swim across this little river,” said Sly Fox 
to himself when he had reached the bottom of 
the hill. “Hard Stone certainly can’t cross a 
river.” 

Down the hill with a mighty rush came Hard 
Stone and into the river he fell. Splash! He was 
going so fast that he rolled right through the river 
and up the other side. Sly Fox looked back and 
saw that Hard Stone was still after him. Little 
Red Hen saw it, too, because she had flown up to 
a high branch in a tree where she could watch every¬ 
thing. 

“Llere’s a great field,” remarked Sly Fox to him¬ 
self as he reached the other side of the river. “I’ll 
try running around it in every direction. I’ll run 
round and round and criss-cross and up and down 



112 


THE KITCHEN PORCH 


and back and forth, and I think Hard Stone will 
soon get tired of that.” 

But Hard Stone did not care how Sly Fox ran. 
He twisted and turned whenever Sly Fox twisted 
and turned. Wherever Sly Fox went, Hard 
Stone rolled close at his heels. Instead of Hard 
Stone, it was Sly Fox who soon became tired of 
this kind of running. 

“If I can’t escape him in this way,” thought Sly 
Fox, “I’ll try running straight ahead. I can run 
as swift as the wind, and maybe I can run away 
from Hard Stone.” 

Sly Fox darted off as fast as he could go. He 
ran as fast as an automobile or an express train. 
After he had been running for some time, he turned 
around and looked back. What was his dismay to 
see Hard Stone rolling after him as fast as ever! 

“Oh, what will become of me!” he exclaimed. 
“Hard Stone wants to roll over me and mash me as 
flat as a pancake.” 

There was nothing to do, however, except to keep 
on running. Sly Fox’s legs were tired now, he was 
breathless, and his tongue was hanging out. But 
Hard Stone was as fresh as ever. He was lucky 
enough not to have any legs to get tired or any 
breath to lose or any tongue to hang out. If it 
came to a question whether Hard Stone or Sly Fox 
could last longer, there could be no doubt that 
Hard Stone would win. 



HARD STONE 


113 


As Sly Fox was picking up his heels as fast as 
he could, suddenly Shaggy Bear appeared in the 
path before him. 

“What are you running for, Sly Fox?” asked 
Shaggy Bear. 

“Oh, Hard Stone is after me and wants to roll 
over me and mash me as flat as a pancake!” 

“Don’t worry,” said Shaggy Bear. “I will take 
care of Hard Stone. I will stand in the path here 
and when he comes along, I will hug him tight in 
my big strong arms.” 

Shaggy Bear stood in the path and stretched out 
his arms. Hard Stone came rolling along, and 
when he reached Shaggy Bear, he paid no more 
attention to him than he would if he had been a fly. 
He rolled right over Shaggy Bear and mashed him 
as flat as a pancake. 

Then Sly Fox began running again and Hard 
Stone after him. In a little while Sly Fox saw 
Wooly Buffalo standing in the path. 

“What are you running for, Sly Fox?” asked 
Wooly Buffalo. 

“Oh, Hard Stone is coming after me and wants 
to roll over me and mash me as flat as a pancake!” 

“Don’t worry,” said Wooly Buffalo. “I will 
take care of Hard Stone. I will stand in the path 
here, and when he comes along, I will butt him into 
the middle of next week with my huge head.” 

“Oh, thank you, Wooly Buffalo,” gasped Sly 



114 


THE KITCHEN PORCH 


Fox. “I hope something can be done, because I 
am almost out of breath.” 

Hard Stone came rolling along and Wooly 
Buffalo stood still in the path. Wooly Buffalo 
put down his huge head to stop Hard Stone, and 
Hard Stone paid no more attention to it than he 
would if it had been a June bug. He rolled right 
over Wooly Buffalo and mashed him as flat as a 
pancake. 

While this was happening, Sly Fox enjoyed a 
little rest, but now he had to start running again, 
for Hard Stone was still rolling after him. 

‘'Look out, Sly Fox!” shouted Hard Stone. 
“I’ve mashed Shaggy Bear and Wooly Buffalo, 
and in a minute I’m going to mash you too, I am.” 

Just then Sly Fox looked up and saw Strong 
Man standing in the path before him. 

“What are you running for, Sly Fox?” asked 
Strong Man. 

“Oh, Hard Stone is rolling after me, and he 
wants to roll over me and mash me as flat as a pan¬ 
cake!” 

“Don’t worry,” said Strong Man. “I can take 
care of Hard Stone. I will stand here beside the 
path, and when he comes along I will give him a 
blow with my big iron hammer.” 

Hard Stone came rolling along, and just as he 
was rolling past the place where Strong Man stood, 
Strong Man lifted his big iron hammer and let it 



HARD STONE 


115 


come down with a mighty blow on Hard Stone. 

In an instant Hard Stone was splintered into a 
thousand different pieces. The fragments of 
stone were scattered far and wide, and that is why 
you always see small stones now when you walk 
through the fields and meadows. 

Unfortunately, one of these flying pieces of stone 
struck Sly Fox over the left eye and knocked him, 
as they say, into a cocked hat. He lay there as stiff 
as a poker, but he was not killed. He was only 
knocked senseless. 

“I’ll take this for my pay,” said Strong Man, as 
he removed from Sly Fox the fur coat which was 
the cause of all this trouble and put it over his own 
shoulders. Strong Man then walked away with 
the coat and after that he always wore it. And 
this is the way Strong Man first learned how com¬ 
fortable it is to wear a fur coat. 

In a little while Sly Fox came to his senses again. 
He saw that his coat was gone, but he did not mind. 
He was thankful enough to be alive. He crept 
away into a hollow among the broken pieces of 
Hard Stone and there he made his den. And this 
is how it happens that foxes still like to make their 
dens in hollows and caverns among the fragments 
of rock. 

As for Little Red Hen, she had watched all these 
exciting happenings from her high perch on the 
limb of the tree. When everything was over, she 



116 


THE KITCHEN PORCH 


flew down from the tree and slowly turned her 
steps homeward. 

“Well, well,” she remarked thoughtfully, “I 
really don’t know whether I ought to be sorry for 
Sly Fox or not. Indian giving isn’t a very good 
kind of giving, and it seems to me I’ve heard Good 
Cook say that you can’t eat your cake and have it.” 



GAY ROOSTER 


N O one could say that Gay Rooster was a shy 
or modest person. To tell the truth, he was 
rather vain and conceited. 

But then he had not a few good reasons for being 
vain. He had a long sweeping tail with beautiful 
bronze and golden plumes in it. His wings also 
were gay with bright-colored feathers, and the comb 
on top of his head was as red as the reddest coral. 
Altogether he was as handsome a rooster as one was 
likely to meet. It was natural for such a well- 
favored fellow as Gay Rooster to be a little proud 
of his good looks. He held his head high and 
carried himself well, and certainly that was better 
than being slack or careless about his appearance. 

Besides his looks Gay Rooster was also proud 
of his singing. He was the best crower in all the 
neighborhood. He always crowed in the morning 
when it was time to get up, and people said he was 
as good as an alarm clock. And he also crowed 
during the day. Whenever he felt particularly 
happy or well, he stood still, stretched himself on 
his yellow toes, lifted his head up and shut his 
eyes, and crowed and crowed so lustily that it was 
a joy to hear him. It was a joy not only to other 

117 


118 


THE KITCHEN PORCH 


people to hear him, but I think also to Gay Rooster 
himself, and that was why he crowed with so much 
enthusiasm. 

With all his accomplishments, Gay Rooster was 
a very agreeable companion. He liked to wander 
about with a flock of hens, playing the part of lord 
and master over them, but doing so courteously and 
pleasantly. He would scratch in the earth until 
he found a bug or seed or some bit of food, and then 
he would cluck for the hens to come and get it. 
The hens would all run up, and the first one 
there got whatever it was Gay Rooster had found. 
First come, first served, was Gay Rooster’s 
rule. 

Gay Rooster was supposed not to have any 
favorites in his flock of hens. The truth was, how¬ 
ever, that he liked Little Red Hen better than any 
of the other hens in the flock. Whenever he had 
a chance he showed special favors to Little Red 
Hen. And at night when all the poultry went to 
roost in the poultry house, Gay Rooster always 
managed to find a place for himself on the perch 
next to Little Red Hen. 

It happened that one night Gay Rooster and 
Little Red Hen went to roost as usual side by side 
on their perch. About the middle of the night, 
however, Little Red Hen was wakened by a dread¬ 
ful groaning and moaning. It sounded like some¬ 
body in great grief or pain. Little Red Hen soon 




Little Red Hen teas awakened by a dreadful 
groaning and moaning. 












GAY ROOSTER 


119 


realized that it was Gay Rooster from whom these 
sounds were coming. 

“Goodness alive, Gay Rooster!” she exclaimed. 
“How you frightened me! What is the matter?” 

“Oh, Little Red Hen,” groaned Gay Rooster, 
“you can’t be nearly as much frightened as I am.” 

“Why, what is the matter?” asked Little Red 
Hen again. “I don’t see anything to be fright¬ 
ened at.” 

“Yes, but if you had seen what I have seen,” 
answered Gay Rooster, “you would know that 
there was something to be frightened at.” 

“Well, what have you seen?” asked Little Red 
Hen, who was a little cross at having been waked 
up out of a sound sleep. “It must be pretty had 
to make all this fuss about it.” 

“You may well say it is pretty bad,” said Gay 
Rooster. “I have just had the most dreadful 
dream you can imagine.” 

“What, is all this groaning and moaning about 
nothing but a dream!” exclaimed Little Red Hen. 
“I’m ashamed of you, and such a big strong fellow 
as you are.” 

“Yes, but wait a minute,” explained Gay 
Rooster. “You don’t know what the dream was. I 
dreamed that I was in the orchard when suddenly 
a fierce creature with eyes that glowed like coals 
of fire jumped out at me. Then I dreamed that 
a black bull ran at me and caught me on his horns 



120 


THE KITCHEN PORCH 


and threw me in the air. And then I dreamed 
that forty thousand little devils danced around 
me, jumping up and down and poking sharp sticks 
at me.” 

“That’s enough, that’s enough,” cried Little 
Red Hen. “Dreams like that are all nonsense.” 

“They are not nonsense,” answered Gay Rooster 
indignantly. “They are a sign of bad luck.” 

“Bad luck, fiddlesticks!” said Little Red Hen. 
“They are a sign of bad digestion. You probably 
ate a tough worm or something yesterday that has 
disagreed with you.” 

“No, I did not,” declared Gay Rooster. “I 
didn’t eat any tough worms, or anything but a few 
grasshoppers and some cracked corn and some bugs 
and a few tender worms and a couple of tomatoes 
in the garden. I only ate two or three tomatoes, 
because the gardener came and drove me away.” 

“Well, I don’t think bugs and tender worms 
could hurt anyone,” said Little Red Hen, “but it 
may have been the tomatoes. But at any rate, 
you are feeling better now, aren’t you?” 

“Yes, I’m feeling better,” acknowledged Gay 
Rooster, “but I’m afraid something dreadful is 
going to happen.” 

“Now don’t you worry,” remarked Little Red 
Hen soothingly. “Go right off to sleep now, and 
tomorrow I can fix you up. What you need is 
a little medicine. I will find some dock and some 



GAY ROOSTER 


121 


dandelion and some pennyroyal for you, and if 
you eat these I’m sure you will be better.” 

“I’m very much obliged for your offer, Little 
Red Hen,” replied Gay Rooster with dignity, 
“but let me tell you, I don’t intend to be dosed up 
with medicine like that. My digestion is all right. 
I never had indigestion in my life. These dreams 
I have had don’t come from that. They are a 
warning. They are a sign of bad luck.” 

“Well, in any case, don’t you worry,” repeated 
Little Red Hen. “If they come from indigestion, 
you will get over it. And if they are a sign of 
bad luck, it’s a good thing you have had warning 
and can guard yourself against the bad luck. But 
go to sleep now, and I think you will be all right in 
the morning.” 

Gay Rooster felt much better after having talked 
over his dreams with Little Red Hen, and soon he 
was once more sound asleep. When he woke up in 
the morning, he was quite himself again and had 
forgotten all about his dreams. He crowed loud 
and long, and at the first glimpse of the morning 
sun, he flew down from his perch and called for 
his flock of hens to come after him. 

“Let’s go to the orchard,” he said, “and hunt 
for bugs and worms with the dew on them. They 
are so much better and fresher now than they are 
later in the day.” 

The hens approved of this plan, and they all flew 



122 


THE KITCHEN PORCH 


down and trooped off to the orchard together. 

How delicious the cool morning air was! The 
grasses and the flowers were all so fresh and fra¬ 
grant that it was a delight to be abroad. The sun 
was just beginning to shine, and its soft early light 
made the whole world look golden. Gay Rooster 
led his flock of hens here and there, from 
one pleasant place to another. At length they 
came to the lower part of the orchard near the 
fence. 

Then all at once Gay Rooster stopped suddenly. 
Ha! What was that? What was that over 
there among the bushes near the fence? It had 
two glowing eyes, and a red furry coat, and a long 
red tongue that was hanging out. Gay Rooster 
did not need a second glance to tell him who it 
was. He knew it was Sly Fox, his old friend and 
enemy. 

“Good morning, Gay Rooster,” cried Sly Fox, 
very politely. “Lovely morning, isn’t it?” 

“Yfes, it is a delightful morning,” replied Gay 
Rooster, taking care not to come any nearer to 
Sly Fox. 

“There’s nothing like early rising,” continued 
Sly Fox. “I think the best time of the day is be¬ 
fore breakfast. And I can see early rising agrees 
with you, Gay Rooster. I never saw you looking 
better. Your yellow feathers are as golden as 
the sun, and your red feathers are as bright as the 



GAY ROOSTER 


123 


blooming rose. The way you look now you remind 
me of your dear father. He certainly was a hand¬ 
some fellow. And such a singer! I don’t believe 
he ever had his equal. You don’t hear such sing¬ 
ing nowadays.” 

“Oh, I don’t know,” said Gay Rooster. “I think 
we still have some pretty good singers left.” 

“Maybe so, maybe so,” agreed Sly Fox, doubt- 
ingly. “But if so, I never hear them. I’d give 
anything to hear somebody crow the way your 
father crowed. I’ll never forget the last time he 
crowed. I was there at the time. He certainly 
was a wonderful singer. And I don’t doubt if 
anyone can do as well as he did, you are the man. 
Won’t you give me a little crow or two, just in 
memory of old times?” 

Gay Rooster was so flattered and pleased at 







124 


THE KITCHEN PORCH 


what Sly Fox had said that he began at once to 
get ready to crow. Little Red Hen tried to warn 
him and to tell him to be careful, but Gay Roost¬ 
er’s ears were so filled with Sly Fox’s cunning 
words that he could hear nothing else. He planted 
his toes firmly in the ground, stretched up his head 
and began to crow. 

“That was a pretty good one,” he remarked as 
he finished his first crow, “but I can do better than 
that.” 

“I’m sure you can,” agreed Sly Fox. “Let us 
have another one.” 

Gay Rooster began to crow. He flapped his 
wings, stretched himself up, and in order to crow 
all the louder, closed his two bright little eyes. 

This was Sly Fox’s chance. With a rush he 
sprang from among the bushes, scattering the flock 
of hens right and left. He seized the crowing Gay 
Rooster between his wide open jaws, and in a 
second was making off towards the woods with his 
prey. 

What a noise and tumult then arose! The hens 
all began to squawk at the tops of their voices, 
flapping their wings and running here and there 
like creatures distracted. 

Gay Rooster also shrieked and screamed, and 
now it was lucky that he had such a good strong 
voice. For Farmer Clovertop heard the racket 



GAY ROOSTER 


125 


and rushed out into the orchard with a pitchfork 
in his hands to see what was the matter. 

Good Cook heard the noise on the kitchen porch, 
and she too ran out with the rolling pin in one hand 
and the dishpan in the other. One Little Child 
and Another Little Child had just come down to 
breakfast, and they followed Good Cook. One 
picked up a rake for a weapon as he ran, and the 
other picked up the sickle for cutting the grass. 
Even Towzer was roused by the terrific shoutings, 
and ran barking after the rest. 

They all raced down into the orchard and were 
just in time to see Sly Fox creep under the fence 
and make off across the field with Gay Rooster in 
his mouth. They all shouted at him, and the hens 
squawked, and Towzer barked madly, and Good 
Cook beat the dishpan with her rolling pin. Such 
a din and racket was never heard. It seemed as 
though the world was coming to an end. All this 
noise made Sly Fox nervous, but nevertheless he 
kept on running. 

“Stop, you thief!” shouted Farmer Clovertop 
loudly at Sly Fox. 

“You miserable thieving rascal!” cried Good 
Cook and the children. “Stop, you sneaking rob¬ 
ber and thief!” 

When Sly Fox heard them calling him a thief, 
it made him very angry. Of course, he was a 



126 


THE KITCHEN PORCH 


thief, but that was just the reason why he did not 
like to be called one. 

“Do you hear what they are saying, Sly Fox?” 
asked Gay Rooster. ‘They are calling you a sneak¬ 
ing thief. I wouldn't stand that from anyone. If 
anyone called me a sneaking thief, I would give 
him a piece of my mind.” 

In fact Sly Fox had heard about all he could 
stand. He was so angry at being called a sneak¬ 
ing thief that he felt he must answer back. He 
was so angry, however, that his cunning left him. 
For he opened his mouth and was just about to 
say, “If I’m a thief, you’re another,” when to his 
surprise Gay Rooster flew off and away and lighted 
high up on the branch of a tree where Sly Fox could 
not reach him. 

“Well, Sly Fox,” laughed Gay Rooster, “you 
made a fool of me, but I think we are even on that 
score now.” 

Sly Fox saw that the game was up so far as he 
was concerned. He looked longingly for a mo¬ 
ment at the dinner he had expected to have, now 
sitting safely on the limb of the tree, and without 
saying a word, he trotted swiftly into the woods. 
Soon he was lost to sight, and it was useless for 
anyone to attempt to follow him. 

When Farmer Clovertop and Good Cook and the 
children and Towzer came up, Gay Rooster flew 




GAY ROOSTER 


127 


down from his perch on the limb of the tree. They 
all congratulated him on his narrow escape and led 
him in triumph back to the poultry yard,. Of 
course, only the hens knew how it happened that 
Sly Fox managed to get hold of Gay Rooster, 
but they said nothing, and you can be sure Gay 
Rooster did not offer any explanations. All his 
time was taken up in being thankful that he had 
escaped. And now he remembered again the bad 
dreams he had had the night before. He was 
more than ever sure that his dreams were warn¬ 
ings and signs of the bad luck he had had that day. 

“Well, you can call it bad luck if you want to,” 
was Little Red Hen’s comment, “but I should 
think, when a rooster listens to the flattering words 
of a fox and shuts his eyes to sing for him, there 
is a better word than bad luck to describe what 
would happen.” 



A GARDEN PARTY 

U QEE what I’ve dug up!” exclaimed One Little 
O Child. 

“Oh, give it to me!” cried Another Little Child. 
“I want to make a man out of it.” 

“All right, you can have it,” agreed One Little 
Child, “and I will make a woman out of these.” 

The children set to work and soon they had made 
a very good man and a very good woman. 

The place where all this was happening was the 
garden, where the children were playing. And 
of course you can guess now what the man and the 
woman were made out of. The man was made out 
of carrots and the woman out of potatoes. The 
carrot that One Little Child dug up was remark¬ 
able because it grew in two parts which looked just 
like a man’s legs. And when Another Little Child 
had found a small round carrot and had fastened it 
on top of the carrot with legs, and had made a hat 
for the Carrot Man with a split pea-pod, and had 
made arms for him out of string beans, he looked 
as though he would get up and walk off at once. 
But he did not. It was not yet quite time for 
Carrot Man to walk and talk. 

The woman which One Little Child made out of 

128 


A GARDEN PARTY 


129 


potatoes was just as a good a woman as Carrot 
Man was a man. But One Little Child did not 
want to call her a potato woman. He thought 
potato was not a fine enough word for the woman 
he had made. 

“I know what I will do/’ declared One Little 
Child. “I will call my woman by her French name 
—only not in French, but in English. You know 
potatoes in French are called pommes de terre, and 
that means apples of the earth, because potatoes 
are round like apples, and grow in the earth, not 
on trees. So I will call my woman Earth Apple.” 

Earth Apple was made out of two potatoes, 
just as Carrot Man was made out of two carrots. 
One potato was large and fat and round, and that 
was Earth Apple’s body. The other potato was 
smaller and was fastened on top the larger potato, 
and this was Earth Apple’s head. Of course One 
Little Child did not need to put eyes in Earth 
Apple’s head, because her head, and her body, too, 
for that matter, grew with eyes already in them. 
Carrot Man’s eyes were apple seeds, and from this 
you may know his eyes were brown. His nose also 
was an apple seed, and though brown is not such a 
good color for a nose as it is for eyes, I don’t think 
Carrot Man minded a great deal. 

Earth Apple had a very beautiful hat for her 
head. It was a pink Canterbury bell, and it was 
such a snug fit that no strings were needed to tie 




130 


THE KITCHEN PORCH 


it on. Of course, Earth Apple had arms, too, 
made out of string beans, the way Carrot Man’s 
arms were made. She wore white kid shoes, made 
out of two large ripe Lima beans, and she had a 
quantity of silky, pale gold hair, which One Little 
Child had borrowed from Corn-on-the-Cob. 



claimed Little Red Hen, who had been watching 
the children with the greatest interest. “What a 
beautiful hat, and what a lovely complexion she 
has!” 

It was really true that Earth Apple had a lovely 
complexion, even though her head was a potato. 
But this potato head was a young potato, and pota- 





131 


A GARDEN PARTY 

toes when they are very young are not brown and 
rough, but are covered with a smooth pink skin as 
delicate as a rose leaf. 

Altogether Carrot Man and Earth Apple were 
as handsome a man and woman as ever had been 
made in that garden. The children thought so, 
and Little Red Hen thought so, and no doubt 
Carrot Man and Earth Apple thought so too. 
But unfortunately the children could not give Car¬ 
rot Man and Earth Apple tongues with which to 
talk, and therefore Carrot Man and Earth Apple 
could not express the thoughts with which their 
heads and their hearts were filled. 

For a long time the children played in the garden 
with the little man and the little woman they had 
made. They played until the sun began to go 
down in the west and the shadows lay long and cool 
across the garden paths. No doubt they would 
have kept on playing forever if someone had not 
come out on the kitchen porch and called them. 
It was Good Cook. 

“Children! Children!” cried Good Cook. 
“Come to supper! Supper’s ready. Muffins! 
Come along! Muffins for supper!” 

“Oh, muffins!” exclaimed One Little Child and 
Another Little Child. 

They both suddenly discovered that they were 
almost starved to death. Why hadn’t they thought 
of supper before, when they were so hungry? 



132 


THE KITCHEN PORCH 


“I’ll beat you to the house,” cried One Little 
Child. 

“No, you won’t,” answered Another Little Child, 
“I’ll beat you.” 

Up they jumped and off they raced, almost step¬ 
ping on Little Red Hen in their haste and excite¬ 
ment. It took them but a minute or two to reach 
the house, to wash their hands and brush their 
hair and so be ready for supper. How good the 
muffins were! I don’t know how many muffins 
One Little Child and Another Little Child ate, 
but it was a good many. I do know, however, that 
by the time they had each eaten three muffins, they 
had completely forgotten that there were any such 
persons as Carrot Man and Earth Apple in the 
world. The little man and the little woman stood 
neglected but patient on the garden path where the 
children had left them. Even Little Red Hen had 
gone off to see if she could not turn up something 
nice for her own supper. 

The garden was quiet now. The shadows of 
evening began to gather among the tall plants and 
bushes. In the house One Little Child and An¬ 
other Little Child were tucked up in bed, peace¬ 
fully sleeping. Little Red Hen had gone to her 
perch in the poultry house that stood beside the 
garden. Rapidly the shadows in the garden grew 
darker, and soon it was night. 



A GARDEN PARTY 


133 


The fleecy white clouds sailed across the sky, 
but down below all was quiet and still. Carrot 
Man and Earth Apple still stood patiently in the 
garden path where the children had left them. 
Overhead the stars winked and blinked, the breezes 
rustled among the leaves on the bushes, but the little 
man and the little woman still stood there, as mo¬ 
tionless as though there was not a spark of life in 
them. 

Now it was only Little Red Hen who really 
knew what happened later during that night. One 
Little Child and Another Little Child were so fast 
asleep that anything might have happened and they 
would have known nothing about it. And for the 
first part of the night Little Red Hen also was 
fast asleep. Towards midnight, however, she be¬ 
came restless and woke up. Gay Rooster, who 
was sleeping on the perch beside her, also was rest¬ 
less, though he did not wake up and crow. If he 
had it would have been a sign that witches were 
about. The proper time for roosters to crow is 
towards morning, and when a rooster crows at mid¬ 
night, it means that some kind of witchery is going 
on. 

Rut Gay Rooster did not crow this night at mid¬ 
night, and though he was restless, he did not even 
wake up. Little Red Hen, however, could not go 
to sleep again after she had got awake. She kept 



134 


THE KITCHEN PORCH 


her eyes and her ears open, and that is how she came 
to see and hear everything that took place that 
night. For the door of the poultry house stood op¬ 
en, and Little Red Hen could look out and see all 
over the garden. The moon was shining, and 
though it was not as bright as day in the moonlight, 
it was bright enough for Little Red Hen to see that 
something very interesting was taking place. 

The first thing she noticed was that Carrot Man 
seemed to be as restless as she was. First he shook 
one carroty leg, then the other carroty leg. Then 
he stretched one beany arm, and then the other 
beany arm. After that he yawned and tilted his 
head back so far that his pea pod hat almost fell off. 

“Heigh ho!” he exclaimed as he jumped up, 
after his big yawn, as wide awake as could be. “I 
feel as limber as a jumping jack.” 

To show that he really was limber, he began to 
caper about, hopping, skipping and jumping, 
dancing up and down and going through all sorts 
of nimble motions. 

In the meantime Earth Apple had also waked 
up. She likewise yawned, but neatly and in a 
ladylike way, with her hand before her mouth, and 
of course she did not cut up high jinks the way 
Carrot Man was doing. But she did begin to skip 
about, waddling a little at first because she had not 
quite learned how to keep her balance. But she 
quickly learned to do better, and soon her little 



135 


A GARDEN PARTY 

Lima bean feet went twinkling up and down and 
round and round on the garden path in the merri¬ 
est manner imaginable. 

“Heigh ho!” she also exclaimed, “I feel as lively 
as a cricket.” 

“Come on,” cried Carrot Man, “let us have a 
dance.” 

And so they danced and danced until they were 
quite out of breath and had to stop to rest. 

“I’ll tell you what!” exclaimed Carrot Man, as 
they stood resting. “Suppose we give a garden 
party.” 

“Excellent idea!” agreed Earth Apple. “We 
will give a party and ask all the people in the gar¬ 
den to come to it.” 

“I’ll go out right away and give the invitations,” 
said Carrot Man. 

“And I will stay at home,” replied Earth Apple, 
“and get a dancing place ready for the party. 
The children did not leave this path very tidy when 
they got through playing here this afternoon. 
Such careless children! But hurry up, Carrot 
Man, and I will have everything neat and clean by 
the time the party begins.” 

Carrot Man hastened away and first he went to 
give an invitation to Blushing Strawberry. Blush¬ 
ing Strawberry was very sweet about it, but she 
really did not see how she could come. 

“You see, the fact is,” she explained, “I am 



136 


THE KITCHEN PORCH 


fastened to this stem, and I don’t know how to get 

off” 

“Oh, that’s easy,” answered Carrot Man. “I 
know some magic words, and when I say these 
words, you will come off your stem as easy as 
pie. Get ready now, because I am going to say 
the words. 


“Hickery, dickery, 

Nettle and dock! 

Darkest night 
At twelve o’clock! 

Sticks and stones 
And witches’ bones— 

Little twig, come off!” 

As soon as Carrot Man said, “Little twig, come 
off!” Blushing Strawberry felt herself loosen 
gently from her stem and glide to the ground. 

“Oh, I’m free!” she exclaimed. “How light I 
feel. I want to dance.” 

“All right,” said Carrot Man, “be sure to come 
to the party and you can dance all you want to. 
I must go now to give the other invitations.” 

Carrot Man then went to Pearly Onion and 
asked him if he would come to the party. 

“That’s a pretty thing to ask me, now, isn’t it?” 
replied Pearly Onion bitterly. “Can’t you see I’m 
fastened to a stem above ground and a lot of little 
stems below ground?” 



137 


A GARDEN PARTY 

As he said this, Pearly Onion’s eyes were full of 
tears. He was always shedding tears and mak¬ 
ing other people shed them too. Carrot Man was 
really very sorry for him. 

“Don’t worry,” he replied kindly, “I can manage 
that. I have some magic words I can say.” 

4 ‘Well, it will take a lot of magic to get me 
loose,” lamented Pearly Onion. “But if you know 
any magic words you had better begin saying 
them.” 

Then Carrot Man did begin and he said his magic 
words again. 


“Hickery, dickery, 

Nettle and dock! 

Darkest night 
At twelve o’clock! 

Sticks and stones 
And witches’ bones— 

Little twig, come off!” 

In an instant Pearly Onion was free and was 
rolling about on the ground in the most lively fash¬ 
ion. He promised to come to the dance and stay 
till it was over. 

Then Carrot Man went to Sugar Corn and asked 
him to come to the dance. 

“Hey?” cried Sugar Corn. “What’s that you 
say? I don’t quite hear you. Speak louder. I’m 
so high up here on my stem that I can’t catch every- 



138 


THE KITCHEN PORCH 


thing. Of course I know you think it’s strange 
that I don’t hear better, being nothing but an ear. 
Rut that’s the way it is and I can’t help it.” 

Carrot Man shouted as loud as he could and 
Sugar Corn finally heard him. 

“Come to your party?” answered Sugar Corn. 
“Of course I would come to your party if I could. 
But how am to get off my stalk? If I wait until 
tomorrow, Good Cook will come out and pull me 
off and cook me for dinner. But that won’t help 
me for your party tonight.” 

Then Carrot Man said the magic words for 
Sugar Corn, and all at once Sugar Corn jumped 
from the stalk, waved his silken locks in the air, and 
raced off down the garden to join the other guests 
at the party. 

“Now I must go and invite Cabbage Head,” re¬ 
marked Carrot Man. “I know he won’t want to 
be left out.” 

But Cabbage Head was very doleful about it all 
at first. 

“No doubt you can get me off my stem with 
your magic words,” he replied to Carrot Man, 
“but what I want to know is, how am I to get back 
on again? You mustn’t expect me to manage these 
things for myself. It’s true I have a great deal 
of head. In fact, I’m all head. But the trouble 
is, there isn’t anything inside of my head. I’m 
just cabbage all the way through.” 



A GARDEN PARTY 


139 


“Yes, I know that,” answered Carrot Man. 
“Everybody knows what a cabbage head is. But 
you don’t need to worry. If I can get you off 
your stem, I can get you back again. When the 
party is all over, I have some more magic words 
which I can say to put everybody back on their 
stems again.” 

“Let me hear them, then,” demanded Cabbage 
Head. “I want to be sure before I risk anything.” 

“All right,” consented Carrot Man. “I can say 
these magic words, but of course they won’t do 
anything to you now because you are already on 
your stem. Here they are: 

“Fan, fen, fin, fawn, fun! 

Let all things off be on again, 

Let dark be light, let loose be tight, 

Fan, fen, fin, fawn, fun!” 

“Well, that sounds all right,” remarked Cabbage 
Head. “I should think those words would get 
me on my stem again if any words will. Now say 
the words that get me off.” 

Carrot Man spoke his other magic words, and as 
soon as he said, “Little tw T ig, come off!” Cabbage 
Head rolled down lightly to the ground. This 
proved that Carrot Man’s words were good magic, 
because the stalk on which Cabbage Head grew was 
not at all a little twig, but as big and thick as a 
strong man’s wrist. As soon as he was down, Cab- 



140 


THE KITCHEN PORCH 


bage Head began frisking about, not very grace¬ 
fully, but brisker and more frivolous than one 
would suppose a cabbage head ever could be. 

Carrot Man still had a number of invitations to 
give. Luckily he found everybody at home and 
eager to go to the party when Carrot Man had 
explained to them about his magic words. Egg 
Plant promised to come and wear her finest pur¬ 
ple silk dress. Of course Ripe Tomato was ready 
for any frolic, and her bright scarlet coat was 
just the thing for a party. Red Pepper was a 
little sharp at first, but she soon got over her bad 
temper and behaved very nicely after that. Long 
Green Okra, Pea-in-the-Pod, Snap Bean and Ruby 
Beet were all invited and not one of them refused. 
As soon as the magic words had set them free from 
their stems, they all tripped nimbly along the gar¬ 
den path to the place where the party was to be. 

There they found Earth Apple waiting to 
greet them. Each of the guests received a warm 
welcome and all were told to be sure to enjoy 
themselves. The last guest to arrive was Cool 
Cucumber, who was never known to be in haste. 
With him came Carrot Man, and then the dance 
began in earnest. It made Little Red Hen’s head 
dizzy to watch them. The guests at this garden 
party whirled and twisted in the most amazing 
way on the smooth dancing place which Earth 
Apple had swept clean on the path. Blushing 



A GARDEN PARTY 


141 


Strawberry and Pea-in-the-Pod made a lovely and 
graceful pair of dancers. Cabbage Head chose 
Purple Egg Plant for his partner, and of course 
they were very well matched. 

In fact, all the dancers danced well and they were 
all much nimbler on their feet than you would 
think they could be if you had never seen them 
except as they were fastened to their stems. 

But who couldn’t dance well on a beautiful 
moonlight night like this, in a lovely garden, and 
with cheerful crickets and katydids and little rus¬ 
tling leaves making the music to dance by? And 
when the dancers were tired, they had the most 
delicate refreshments to give them strength again 
for more dancing. They drank the cool drops of 
dew that lay like little gleaming pearls on every 
leaf. It was wonderful what power there was in 
those glistening dew drops. If any of the dancers 
felt the least inclined to wilt and wither, a few 
drops of dew made them feel as fresh as ever again. 

Little Red Hen never knew exactly how long 
this garden party lasted. She knew it lasted a 
good long time, because she sat on her perch and 
watched it, as it seemed to her, for hours at least. 
By and by, however, the music and the dancing 
and the silvery moonlight made her drowsy. She 
did not exactly go to sleep, but in a way drifted 
off, perhaps just dozing a little. All at once, how¬ 
ever, she woke up with a start. 



142 


THE KITCHEN PORCH 


What was that awful sound? 

In a moment she knew what it was. It was Gay 
Rooster crowing. 

“Goodness, Gay Rooster!” exclaimed Little Red 
Hen. “How you startled me! I didn’t know it 
was so late.” 

“Late!” cried Gay Rooster. “What are you 
talking about? It isn’t late. It’s early. It’s al¬ 
most morning.” 

Little Red Hen looked out quickly into the gar¬ 
den, and she saw that it was as Gay Rooster had 
said. The moon was no longer shining, and there 
was a gray light in the sky that showed that morn¬ 
ing was near. 

Then Little Red Hen looked at once for all the 
gay dancers in the garden party. But what was 
her astonishment to find that not a dancer was to be 
seen. She thought she saw little creatures of some 
kind or other scurrying about among the plants in 
the garden, and she thought she heard some words 
that sounded something like Fan, fen, fin, fawn, 
fun! But these were such absurd words that she 
finally decided that she must have been mistaken. 

“And yet,” remarked Little Red Hen to her¬ 
self, “there must be something in all this. Because 
out there in the path I see Carrot Man and Earth 
Apple, just as I saw them last night. To be sure, 
they aren’t dancing now, but they look as though 
they could dance.” 



A GARDEN PARTY 


143 


Little Red Hen did not like to say anything to 
Gay Rooster about the strange garden party for 
fear he might say she had been dreaming. And of 
course Gay Rooster could know nothing about it 
anyway, because he had been sound asleep all the 
time. She just tried to puzzle it out by herself. 

Later in the morning when the sun had come up 
and had dried all the little pearly dewdrops on the 
plants, Good Cook and One Little Child and An¬ 
other Little Child came out into the garden. Good 
Cook had come out to gather some vegetables for 
soup. She saw poor Carrot Man lying there in 
the hot sun and already beginning to look a little 
withered. Earth Apple lay beside him and her 
pink Canterbury bell hat was so shrivelled up that 
it protected her head scarcely at all. 

“Shall I put these carrots and these potatoes in 
the soup?” said Good Cook to the children as 
she picked up Carrot Man and Earth Apple. 

When Little Red Hen heard Good Cook ask if 
she should put Carrot Man and Earth Apple in 
the soup, she was beside herself with fear and ex¬ 
citement. She clucked and clucked and fluttered 
and cackled, until Good Cook noticed it and said, 
‘‘Whatever is the matter with that hen! She seems 
to have something on her mind.” 

Unfortunately, Good Cook could not understand 
Little Red Hen’s language. What Little Red 
Hen wanted to say was that Carrot Man and 



144 


THE KITCHEN PORCH 


Earth Apple were not just ordinary carrots and 
potatoes, but that they could sing and dance and 
play just like anybody else, and that she knew they 
could do this because she had seen them. 

But of course Good Cook did not know this and 
One Little Child and Another Little Child did not 
know it, since none of them had seen it, and since 
none of them could understand what Little Red 
Hen was saying. And besides there was nothing 
in the garden to show that anything unusual had 
happened during the night. Blushing Strawberry 
and Cabbage Head and all the other garden folk 
were fastened firmly to their stems, the way re¬ 
spectable garden folk should be. 

“Oh, yes,” exclaimed One Little Child and An¬ 
other Little Child, “put the carrots and the pota¬ 
toes in the soup! We don’t want to play with 
them any more.” 

Good Cook took them back to the kitchen with 
her, and into the soup they went. No doubt they 
made a very good soup, for they were good carrots 
and potatoes. At first Little Red Hen felt very 
sad that this should have happened to Carrot Man 
and Earth Apple. After she had thought about 
it for a while, however, she saw that Good Cook and 
the children had not meant to be cruel, and that, 
in fact, they really were not cruel. For she saw 
that Carrot Man and Earth Apple in the daytime, 
after all, were nothing but carrots and potatoes. 



A GARDEN PARTY 


145 


It was only at night, when the moon was shining 
and the dew drops were glistening on the leaves 
and all the world was asleep and dreaming, that 
carrots and potatoes were no longer carrots and 
potatoes, but airy little sprites dancing in the sil¬ 
very light. Then they were safe and nothing 
could harm them. 

“What a dreadful thing it would be, though,” 
exclaimed Little Red Hen, “if Good Cook should 
make her soup at midnight instead of in the day 
time. Then I suppose all the dancing creatures 
in the world would have to go into the soup. But 
luckily that is just what Good Cook never does, 
and I see now that everything has its proper time 
and place—soup and ordinary things for day time, 
but magic and mystery for the moonlight.” 




WHISKERS 


W HISKERS was a perfectly harmless cat— 
for the most part. It cannot be denied, 
though, that besides certain good qualities, Whis¬ 
kers had others that were not so good. One of his 
good qualities was that he caught mice now and 
then in the kitchen. There was no harm in that, 
except to the mice. In fact, Good Cook kept 
Whiskers specially for the purpose of catching 
mice. 

Unfortunately Whiskers was not satisfied to 
catch only mice. He caught birds, too, and that 
was one of his bad qualities. Of course he did not 
succeed in catching many grown-up birds. They 
were too swift for him, and as birds can fly and 
cats cannot, they were nearly always able to get 
away from him. But sometimes Whiskers dis¬ 
covered nests with little young birds in them that 
could not fly. Then if the mother bird happened 
not to be at home to protect her birdlings, it was 
likely to go hard with them. 

Good Cook had scolded Whiskers and spanked 
him many a time for robbing birds’ nests, but these 
jmnishments seemed to have no effect on him. 
Apparently the longing to catch birds was bred in 

146 


WHISKERS 


147 


the bones of Whiskers, and I suppose one might as 
well tell him not to be a cat at all as to tell him not 
to do what every cat feels it must do. 

ow from these habits of catching birds and 
mice, you might suppose that Whiskers was a very 
fierce sort of person. But far from it! In spite 
of his long whiskers he was the most timid creature 
of his kind on earth. It does not take much brav¬ 



ery to try to catch a mouse or a young bird in its 
nest. 

Whiskers was not at all the sort of person to 
look for trouble. He had no liking for the rough 
and tumble life, but he loved most of all to find 
some quiet, snug, warm little place where he could 
doze the time away in peace. He was ready for 
a nap at any hour of the day. Good Cook said 
Whiskers slept so much in the day time because he 





148 


THE KITCHEN PORCH 


prowled around during the night. It may be so. 
Everybody knows that a cat can see in the dark, 
and likewise everybody has heard cats meowing and 
yowling at night, when all respectable people ought 
to be in their beds asleep. As a class, cats do not 
have a very good reputation. 

On a certain sunny morning, Whiskers was tak¬ 
ing one of his usual cat naps under a crab apple 
tree in the orchard. He had found a soft sleeping 
place among the grass and leaves, and there he lay, 
curled up in the warm sun. Now when Whiskers 
fell into one of these naps, he did not really go off 
sound asleep. He only dozed, being about one 
third awake and two thirds asleep. He was such 
a timid fellow that he was afraid to go entirely to 
sleep. He felt he must always be ready to jump 
up at the least sign of danger. Even when there 
was nothing near to alarm him, Whiskers always 
slept with one ear open. 

Just now the only other person in the neighbor¬ 
hood was Little Red Hen, who was scratching 
among the leaves for bugs and worms under a tree 
in another part of the orchard. Little Red Hen 
and Whiskers were not intimate friends, but they 
got along well enough together by letting each 
other alone. Little Red Hen did not like the habit 
Whiskers had of eating birds. She was not quite 
sure that Whiskers would not want to eat her, if 
he were only a little bigger or she were only a little 



WHISKERS 


149 


smaller. And on his side, I think Whiskers was 
rather jealous of Little Red Hen. He thought 
he ought to be the only pet to be allowed in the 
kitchen. 

“What has she ever done, anyway, I’d like to 
know/’ Whiskers would say to himself scornfully. 
“I don’t believe she ever caught a mouse in all her 
life.” 

Rut Whiskers was too much afraid of Good 
Cook to try to harm Little Red Hen, and anyway 
he had long since made up his mind that Little Red 
Hen was too big a bird for him to tackle. As he 
lay dozing under the crab apple tree he knew that 
Little Red Hen was also in the orchard, and Little 
Red Hen knew that he was there. They both real¬ 
ized, however, that the orchard was big enough for 
the two of them, so long’ as they did not interfere 
with each other. 

But no matter where he is, a timid person will 
always find something to be afraid of. And so it 
happened to Whiskers on this peaceful summer’s 
morning in the orchard. For as he lay there and 
slept, a little wormy, worthless, green crab apple 
fell from the tree to the ground among the dry 
leaves and grasses. The crab apple made a little 
tiny crackling rustling sound as it fell among the 
leaves. Whiskers heard it and was on his feet in 
an instant. 

“What was that terrific noise!” he exclaimed. 



150 


THE KITCHEN PORCH 


He was so frightened that he did not stop to 
think or to look around or do anything, but began 
to run as fast as he could. Little Red Hen saw 
Whiskers jump up and run away like mad, but 
she paid no attention to him because she saw no 
cause for alarm. 

‘‘Probably just another of his wild notions,” 
she remarked, with a smile, as she kept on scratch¬ 
ing for worms and bugs. 

Having started to run, Whiskers kept on run¬ 
ning, and the farther and faster he ran, the more 
frightened he became. He ran across the field 
and towards the woods. Sly Fox saw him coming 
and hastened out to meet him. 

“What are you running for, Whiskers?” asked 
Sly Fox. 

“Oh, the world is coming to an end!" exclaimed 
Whiskers. “The world is coming to an end, and 
I’m running away from it.” 

“What! The world coming to an end!” cried 
Sly Fox. “How shocking, and how sudden! I’m 
not at all prepared for the end of the world. I 
think I will go along with you.” 

Then Sly Fox also started to run. Pretty soon 
they were met by Hungry Wolf. 

“What are you running for, Sly Fox?” asked 
Hungry Wolf. 

“Oh, the world is coming to an end!” exclaimed 



WHISKERS 


151 


Sly Fox. “The world is coming to an end and we 
are running away from it.” 

“What, the world coming to an end!” cried 
Hungry Wolf. “This is indeed terrible! I must 
have a little time to get ready before I can have the 
world come to an end. I think I will go with you.” 

Then Hungry Wolf began to run. Pretty soon 
they were met by Shaggy Bear. 

“What are you running for, Hungry Wolf?” 
asked Shaggy Bear. 

“Oh the world is coming to an end!” exclaimed 
Hungry Wolf. “The world is coming to an end, 
and we are running away from it.” 

“What, the world coming to an end I” cried 
Shaggy Bear. “I thought that might happen 
some day, but I did not know it had already come. 
It’s not at all convenient for me just now, and I 
think I will go with you.” 

Then Shaggy Bear began to run. Pretty soon 
they met with Striped Tiger. 

“What are you running for, Shaggy Blear?” 
asked Striped Tiger. 

“Oh, the world is coming to an end!” exclaimed 
Shaggy Bear. “The world is coming to an end, 
and we are running away from it.” 

“What! the world coming to an end!” cried 
Striped Tiger. “How lucky I met you. I hadn’t 
heard a word about it. I can’t have the world 



152 


THE KITCHEN PORCH 


coming to an end just now. I think I will go 
along with you.” 

Then Striped Tiger began to run. Pretty soon 
they met with King Lion. 

“What are you running for, Striped Tiger?” 
asked King Lion with a mighty roar. 

“Oh, the world is coming to an end!” exclaimed 
Striped Tiger. “The world is coming to an end, 
and we are running away from it.” 

“What! the world coming to an end!” cried King 
Lion. “I’m sure I didn’t say it could. However, 
if you are all going away, there won’t be anything 
left behind for me to be king over, and I think I 
may as well go along.” 

Then King Lion started to run, and all the other 
creatures with him. They ran faster and faster, 
and finally all the dwellers in field and forest had 
joined in the mad race. They were so blind with 
fright that they could not see where they ran. All 
the time they kept shouting, “Oh, the world is com¬ 
ing to an end!” And every time they heard their 
own voices, they became more frightened than ever. 

Now it always happens when people run about 
blindly like this that they travel in a circle. With¬ 
out knowing that they are doing so, they always 
come around to the place from which they set out. 

And so it happened that Whiskers and all the 
other creatures that he had started going came back 



WHISKERS 


153 


again to the orchard and to the very tree under 
which Whiskers had been sleeping. 

Little Red Hen saw the distracted multitude 
approaching and she saw at once that they were 
all so frightened that they did not know what they 
were doing. She saw that all of them had lost 
their heads—that is, had lost them in so far as being 
able to use them was concerned. Little Red Hen 
saw also that something must be done to bring the 
panic stricken crowd back to its senses. 

“Stop! Stop!” she shouted, as she flapped her 
wings in the faces of the frantic creatures. “What 
is all this nonsense about?” 

King Lion was ahead of all the other animals, 
and he was so astonished at what Little Red Hen 
did that he stopped short, so that he almost fell 
over backwards. And all the other animals be¬ 
hind him were stopped so short when he stopped 
that they piled all over one another before they 
could stop running. 

“What are you running for, King Lion?” asked 
Little Red Hen. 

“Oh, the world is coming to an end!” exclaimed 
King Lion. “At least I think it is coming to an 
end, and I was conducting all my faithful sub¬ 
jects away to a safe place.” 

“Stuff and nonsense!” cried Little Red Hen. 
“You are conducting your faithful fiddlesticks 



154 


THE KITCHEN PORCH 


away to a safe place! Who told you the world was 
coming to an end?” 

“Striped Tiger told me,” explained King Lion, 
shame-facedly. 

“Who told you the world was coming to an 
end?” asked Little Red Hen of Striped Tiger. 

“Shaggy Bear told me,” answered Striped Tiger, 
apologetically. 

“Who told you the world was coming to an 
end?” asked Little Red Hen of Shaggy Bear. 

“Hungry Wolf told me,” confessed Shaggy 
Bear, guiltily. 

“Who told you the world was coming to an end?” 
asked Little Red Hen of Hungry Wolf. 

“Sly Fox told me,” replied Hungry Wolf, 
meekly. 

“Who told you the world was coming to an end ?” 
asked Little Red Hen of Sly Fox. 

“Whiskers told me,” murmured Sly Fox, hum¬ 
bly. 

“Oh, it was Whiskers, was it?” asked Little 
Red Hen. “Now, tell me, Whiskers, how do you 
know the world is coming to an end?” 

“I know because I heard it,” mumbled Whis¬ 
kers, but he mumbled it in the meekest, faintest 
little mew, so faint that one could hardly tell he 
was speaking. 

“Speak louder, Whiskers,” ordered Little Red 
Hen. “Everybody wants to hear about it.” 



WHISKERS 


155 


“Well,” mewed Whiskers plaintively, “I was 
lying asleep under the crab apple tree, when all at 
once I heard the most terrible ripping and splitting 
and cracking noise. I knew at once what was hap¬ 
pening. It was the world cracking and splitting 
at my very feet. As you all know, I am nervous 
anyway, but it quite upset me to have the world 
coming to an end in this unexpected way and just 
in the middle of my nap. I am sure any sensitive 
person would have felt the same way.” 

“Humph!” sniffed Little Red Hen. “I thought 
that was about the way of it. I was in the orchard 
here all the time you were taking your nap, Whis¬ 
kers, and I heard no ripping and splitting and 
cracking noise. But I can tell you what it was 
that Whiskers heard. It was a little green wormy 
worthless crab apple that fell from the tree into 
the dry grass and leaves on the ground. Come 
along to the crab apple tree and I will show you.” 

Little Red Hen took King Lion over to the place 
where Whiskers had been sleeping, and there sure 
enough, among the dry leaves nearby, they found 
the little crab apple that had sounded to Whis¬ 
kers like the end of the world. 

When King Lion saw the crab apple he had 
nothing to say. He put his tail between his legs 
and slunk off to the forest, where afterwards he 
[spent much time trying to declide the question 
whether he or Whiskers had been the bigger fool. 



156 


THE KITCHEN PORCH 


He sat for hours and hours with his head between 
his paws, trying to answer this question. All the 
other creatures also crept away. They had the 
same question to ask of themselves, but of course 
none of them had brains enough to answer it. For 
if they had, they would have had brains enough not 
to pay any attention in the first place to the absurd 
rumor that had put them all into such a fright. 

“Well,” thought Little Red Hen, as she went 
back to her task of scratching among the leaves 
for worms and bugs, “it seems to me no matter 
how timid or how brave you are, whether you are 
King Lion, or only Whiskers the cat, it’s unneces¬ 
sarily foolish to get excited over anything that a 
a little common sense shows is too foolish to be be¬ 
lieved.” 



BUSY DAYS 


‘‘WJ ELL, if you want to know what I think, 

V V my candid opinion is that you had Letter 
make a potpie out of her,” said the gardener. 
Anyone could see from the way he spoke that he 
was very angry. 

“Make a potpie out of Little Bed Hen!” cried 
Good Cook indignantly. “If you say that again, 
I will make a potpie out of you. Little Bed Hen 
is not going to be made into a potpie, and she is to 
be let alone to do just as she pleases.” 

“Very well, then,” replied the gardener crossly, 
as he walked off to his work, “let her please not 
come into my garden again and scratch up all my 
young lettuce plants and young celery plants. If 
I catch her at any more such tricks, I will wring 
her neck for her.” 

You can imagine it was not very pleasant for 
Little Bed Hen to stand there and hear the gar¬ 
dener talk in this way. She knew that the gar¬ 
dener said more than he meant, but nevertheless 
Little Bed Hen could not deny that she had 
scratched around in some nice soft earth in the 
garden. Her conscience was not altogether clear, 

and for that reason she thought it best not to let 

157 


158 


THE KITCHEN PORCH 


the gardener get too near her. She edged off 
whenever he approached her, looking at him sus¬ 
piciously with her head cocked on one side. 

“How was I to know that was a celery bed!” she 
clucked again and again, even after the gardener 
had left. “The plants were so tiny you could 
hardly see them. They looked like any other 
plants to me, and so they would to anybody else. 
I’m sorry, but I don’t see why it is necessary to 
make so much fuss about a few tiny little celery 
plants.” 

“Now please don’t explain, Little Red Hen,” 
said Good Cook firmly. “The damage is done 
and you know you did it, but what I do say is, 
that when you can’t explain something you have 
done, the least said, the soonest mended. Run 
along now and keep out of mischief.” 

Little Red Hen walked off, and at first she felt 
rather sad and depressed. She did not like to be 
scolded or to have people cross with her. She wan¬ 
dered off to the orchard, but somehow the things 
she ordinarily did in the orchard seemed to have 
lost their interest. 

After a time, however, she forgot all her troubles 
in thinking about a wonderful secret plan she had 
just made. She at once set to work to carry out 
her plan. Evidently it was to be a very great 
secret, for she looked around carefully in eveiy 
direction before she did anything. Then she crept 



BUSY DAYS 


159 


in among some thick bushes in one corner of the 
orchard where nobody ever went. 

What she did there it was impossible to tell, be¬ 
cause the leaves on the bushes were so thick one 
could not see behind them. She stayed there for 
a good long while, however, and when she came out 
she looked about cautiously to make sure that no 
one was watching her. She crept away stealthily, 
and after she was gone some distance from the se¬ 
cret place, she began to cackle loud and lustily. 

“Look, here is where I am!” she cackled. “Any¬ 
body can see where I’ve been. I’ve been right here 
all the time.” 

Of course she had not been right there all the 
time, but she said this to keep suspecting persons, 
if there were any, from guessing that she had been 
at her secret jdace among the thick bushes. 

After this first visit, Little Red Hen went to 
her secret place every day. She always looked 
about very carefully to make sure that no one saw 
her go in, and she also looked carefully to see that 
no one was watching her come out. She was so 
cautious about it that not a soul had the slightest 
notion that Little Red Hen had this great secret, 
whatever it was, among the bushes in the corner 
of the orchard. 

After a time Little Red Hen began to spend 
more and more time in her hiding place. She only 
came out now to get something to eat, and then she 



160 


THE KITCHEN PORCH 


ran right back again. She even deserted her bas¬ 
ket on the porch and her perch in the poultry house 
and slept there in the orchard all night. 

“I wonder whatever has come over Little Red 
Hen,” remarked Good Cook one day. “I almost 
never see her around any more.” 

“Neither do we ever see her in the yard or wher¬ 
ever we are playing,” added One Little Child and 
Another Little Child. 

“So long as she keeps out of my garden,” 
growled the gardener, “I don’t want to see 
her.” 

Then and there Good Cook started out to hunt 
up Little Red Hen. She hunted all over the 
yard, in the poultry house, in the barn, in the gar¬ 
den, even in the orchard. Rut so well was Little 
Red Hen’s secret hidden among the bushes that 
Good Cook discovered not the least sign of it. 

All the time Good Cook was hunting in the or¬ 
chard, Little Red Hen lay hidden in her secret 
place. She saw Good Cook, and she heard Good 
Cook calling her, but she never budged. Her se¬ 
cret was such a deep and dark secret that she could 
not even let her dear friend Good Cook know 
about it—not yet at least. The time would come 
when Good Cook would know everything, but that 
time had not yet arrived. So Good Cook finally 
grew tired of hunting and went back to her work 
in the kitchen. 



BUSY DAYS 


161 


A week or so later, it happened that Good Cook 
and the children, and Towzer and Whiskers, and 
Silversides and human Watch Dog, and in fact 
everybody except Little Bed Hen, were all sit¬ 
ting on the kitchen porch. 

It was One Little Child who first noticed some¬ 
thing strange at the end of the long cement walk. 

“What is that at the end of the walk!’ 1 exclaimed 
One Little Child. “It looks like a regular army.” 

“Why, it’s Little Red Hen!” cried Another Lit¬ 
tle Child, “and she has something with her.” 

“Well, of all things!” said Good Cook. “I 
should say she did have something with her. I 
can hardly believe my eyes.” 

By this time Little Red Hen had reached the 
porch and everybody could see what was with her. 



Very proudly and importantly Little Red Hen 
came strutting along, bringing with her fourteen 
little downy yellow chicks! 

Now the great secret was out! It was a nest 



162 


THE KITCHEN PORCH 


that Little Red Hen had made among the bushes 
in the corner of the orchard. In her nest she had 
laid her eggs until she had fourteen eggs, and then 
she had set upon them until her fourteen eggs 
hatched out into fourteen downy chicks. And now 
here they were! As soon as all the chicks were 
hatched out, Little Red Hen had brought them to 
show them off to Good Cook and all her other 
friends. 

If Little Red Hen had expected to create a 
sensation with her fourteen chicks, she could be 
well satisfied with the result. 

“What darling little chicks!” exclaimed one Lit¬ 
tle Child and Another Little Child. 

“Oh, you deceiving Little Red Hen!” cried Good 
Cook laughingly. “So that is why you have been 
so mysterious.” 

Only Whiskers seemed a little envious of all 
the attention that was being paid to Little Red 
Hen. 

“What are fourteen little chicks anyway?” said 
Whiskers. “I could eat fourteen little chicks at 
one meal if I wanted to.” 

But Whiskers was very careful to say this to 
himself, so that no one could hear him. He knew 
that eating little chicks was one of the things abso¬ 
lutely forbidden, and he was too timid to run any 
such risks. All he did therefore was to wrinkle 
up his nose and look very superior, as though 



BUSY DAYS 


163 


fourteen chicks was the most ordinary thing in the 
world. And of course Towzer was grown so lazy 
that he did not show enthusiasm about any¬ 
thing, and a goldfish twenty-four years old could 
not be expected to be enthusiastic about anything 
except itself. But Little Bed Lien did not mind 
their coolness. She had her fourteen chicks and 
was satisfied. 

“Well, now,” declared Good Cook, u I ve got to 
see to it that Gray Bat doesn’t come along and 
carry away all these little chicks, as he did Little 
Bed Hen’s sisters and brothers, when they were 
just as old. And I think the best plan will be to 
put Little Bed Hen’s coop right here near the 
door. Then I can keep an eye on the whole family 
there all the time.” 

As Good Cook said, so it was done. The coop 
was placed near the porch, and a cozy safe dwell¬ 
ing place it made for Little Bed Hen and her fam¬ 
ily. Good Cook gave the little chicks some hard 
boiled egg to eat, chopped into small crumbs, and 
soon they were pecking away like good fellows. 

And now began a busy time for Little Bed Hen. 
With fourteen children to look after, she had not 
much leisure for other things. She could no longer 
go wandering over the fields or to the woods where 
in other days she had met with so many strange 
adventures. Her place was now chiefly at home, 
attending to the needs of her large family. There 



164 


THE KITCHEN PORCH 


was always something to do for them. Little Red 
Hen was continually clucking around, scratching 
for food for them or directing them not to do this 
or not to do that. 

“Come back, Yellow Wing,” she cried one min¬ 
ute. “Don’t go into that tall grass or you will 
get lost. 

“Now, Topknot,” she said next, “please don’t 
try to pick a quarrel with your brothers. You are 
entirely too young to begin fighting. 

“And you, Waggle Tail,” she added, “keep a 
little further away from VChiskers. I don’t al¬ 
together like the look in his eyes.” 

All day long Little Red Hen led her fourteen 
little chicks around with her. She showed them all 
the nice places about the yard and the garden. 
Everywhere they went, Little Red Hen was very 
earnest in teaching the fourteen little chicks all 
the things they ought to know in order to grow up 
properly and be wise. At night, however, she al¬ 
ways brought them back to their safe place in the 
coop beside the porch. There they cuddled up 
under their mother’s wings, and for a while you 
might hear a little peep here and a little peep there. 
But only for a short time. Soon the little chicks 
were all sound asleep. They were so tired from 
wandering about all day that they wanted nothing 
better than a long cosy sleep at night. 

“What a relief it is to have my family all safe 



BUSY DAYS 


165 


asleep!” sighed Little Red Hen. “You may not 
think it, but fourteen little children are quite a 
handful. Not that my children aren’t good. 
They are good, but you know children will be chil¬ 
dren. Sometimes I get quite worn out. And that 
reminds me. I’m almost dead for sleep now. I 
must get up early tomorrow, and so I think I will 
just shut my eyes and bid the world good night. 
Sweet dreams and happy waking!” 

Scarcely had Little Red Hen spoken these 
words when she went off sound asleep. She had 
well earned her night’s rest, and there we must 
leave her, only hoping, as we bid her good night 
that all her fourteen downy little chicks may grow 
up to be as cheerful and as kind and as wise as 
their mother. 


GOOD NIGHT! 































































































































































































































































































































































































